


Old Dad for Adoption, Needed

by WHUMPBBY



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Jack&Sombra, M/M, Secret Siblings, Slice of Life, Sombra&Jack, Some angst, a lot of shit talking, best pals, jack and gabe are kid magnets, jack is a grumpy veteran, not old yet but old in spirit, reaper the cat - Freeform, sombra giving no fucks, sombra is a poor college student, spiders play a part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-11-30 13:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WHUMPBBY/pseuds/WHUMPBBY
Summary: All in all Sombra's new neighbour is a real deal golden-headed, corn-fed, blueyed white boy - only old. He's grumpy, annoying, parks his pickup in the space she had reserved for her bike and couldn’t appreciate good EDM if it sauntered into his bedroom to suck his dick for free.Short to say, they don't get along.And it would stay like that - or even escalate into something nasty and unnecessary - if not for that  one rainy night. A night when Sombra almost gave up her spirit and her grumpy old neighbour came through like a goddamn hero and saved the day.





	1. Chapter 1

“Oi, Jack, get up!”

Sombra banged on the door steadfastly with her right palm, using her left one to stifle a yawn. It was ten past seven am, but already the summer sun falling in through the window at the end of a small hallway was making the place annoyingly bright. Was Sombra someone who appreciated mornings, she would be tempted to say it was a pretty nice one.

She wasn’t, though, and so the sun shining on her face only served to piss her off.

“Come on, old man, I don't have a whole day!”

Blessedly, all doors in the building opened outwards, so when the neighbour finally answered her call, the door shielded Sombra from the bright annoyance.

Or, more like, swapped one annoyance for another.

Jack looked disgustingly prepared to face the day - freshly showered and shaved, and dressed in close-fitting jeans and a blue plaid flannel shirt that perfectly matched his cornflower eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses. He was probably in the middle of reading his morning newspaper or listening to the news on the radio like some sort of a loser.

Sombra, still in her pajamas, hair a mess and eyes half-glued with sleep, spared a second for venomous envy.

“What do you want?” The man asked gruffly.

“Sandwich maker,” she said without stalling, straight to the point, reaching out, fingers spread in a ‘gimmie’ gesture. “I _need_ it.”

The dick had the gall to raise his eyebrow at her. “Again? You can’t survive on toasted cheese forever.”

“You can’t tell me what to do, gramps!”

To be honest, she was kinda getting sick of them, but the few slices of bread she had left in her kitchenette were getting uncomfortably stale and the only way to ingest them at this point was to stuff them with cheese and toast them within an inch of their lives. It was good for environment, wasn’t it? She wasn’t throwing away perfectly usable food and Jack’s toaster used less electricity than her ancient oven.

The smug certainty that she’s in the right didn’t make the way the man sighed at her sting any less.

“Put your bread in the fridge, like I told you, it will last you longer,” he said, turning around.

Sombra followed him into the flat, face marred with disgust. “You are so lucky that I like you - with that insane talk I could have you admitted. Bread doesn't belong in the fridge, it’s not a damn fruit!”

She watched him reach into the cabinet over the sink and, sure enough, the damn thing was higher than she’d ever manage to get without a chair. A moment later the sandwich maker was handed to her, the cord elegantly coiled around the thing, effectively shutting her up.

“Here,” Jack made a shooing motion with his hand. “Now scram, I have to finish my coffee and newspaper.”

“You’re so old, I swear!” Sombra moaned. But she climbed to her toes easily and, before the man knew what happened, she pecked him on the cheek. “ _Gracias_ , I’ll take good care of it.”

“I hope so, it wasn’t cheap!” He called after her, but by that point she was already halfway to her own flat.

 

* * *

 

“Score, Reaper!” Sombra enthused as she plugged the sandwich maker into the wall and went about procuring the last of her bread. “Old man Jack has a soft heart.”

The black cat sunning himself on the stack of papers on the end of her cluttered kitchen isle didn’t seem interested in the slightest, but still graciously tipped his tail at her. Probably didn’t want to make his lady feel bad. Good kitty.

Sombra left the sandwiches to toast and dragged her carcass into the bathroom to brush her teeth and pull some clothes on. She eyed the hoodie hanging off the bathroom’s door, but it was summer in South Indiana, so she opted for a worn cami and a pair of shorts instead. In about two hours the temperature will jump to unbearable levels, there was no need to court a heat stroke.

As she fought with her hair, she could hear a sound of the tap being turned on and off behind the wall. Probably her neighbour washing his teeth before he left for work. She left the bathroom before she could hear the sound of a toilet seat smacking against the wall. Sombra prided herself on being open minded and all, but listening to an old dude pissing was a bit too kinky in her opinion.

Ah, the joys of living in a cheap apartment block. Lack of proper air conditioning and walls made of wafer. Still, the studios were cheap and the plumbing worked, so what more could she want, really? She was an orphan on a stipend, living on her own in a small, dusty neighbourhood of the small dusty town of West Bloomington (that was simply an overambitious suburb of Bloomington Proper that at some point managed to score town's rights). Good thing that the government let her rent something on her own, instead of putting her into one of the overcrowded and over-lame bursaries. She had everything she should ever wish for. 

A month ago she kinda wished for another neighbour and look how well that turned out.

The old man that moved into the flat of Mrs Robinson when the old woman left for her sister’s home, was a stick in the mud of the worst order. Or so Sombra had thought. He wasn’t some old, ugly pervert, thankfully, but he was old, like, _forty years_ _old_ or something.  

The worst part of it was that the dude was a real looker. Built like a statue, eight feet tall (okay, no, he wasn’t, but Sombra was five-two and full of the instinctive hatred short people carried for their tall brethren). Face like he should be on a spread of one of those fancy lumberjack-themed outdoorsy clothing catalogues - even including the scar that ran diagonally through it. It was a cool scar, not the lame type.

All in all dude was a real deal golden-headed, corn-fed, blueyed white boy - only old. Like a _vintage_ version of a good, classy porn actor.

But a proper porn with a studio behind it, not some cheap camboy bullshit.  

So, yeah, the dude being a looker kinda sucked, since he was grumpy like a badger and couldn’t appreciate good EDM if it sauntered into his bedroom to suck his dick for free. Unlike Mrs Robinson, who was as deaf as a post, he wasn’t above shouting through the wall at Sombra whenever she turned the music up to anything past ten. What a drag! Wearing headphones in the scorching Indiana summer gave her headache and an almost permanent crick in her hairdo!

Not to mention that his old, beat up pickup took the space she usually reserved for her bike. Because of course, Mr Growly couldn't park anywhere else than on the one space by the lantern that was the only object Sombra could safely chain her bike to. What a dick.

The list of gripes was as long as her arm only three months in - most probably on both sides, because she wasn’t real subtle about her dislike of the new neighbour. Not that she would write insults on his door or anything juvenile like that, the man could probably break her in half, but if she encouraged Reaper to shit on his balcony one or two times, no one had to know.

And it would stay like that - or even escalate into something nasty and unnecessary - if not for the one rainy night a month back. A night when Sombra almost gave up her spirit and her grumpy old neighbour came through like a goddamn hero and saved the day.

Some people (mostly her friends) accused her of being too dramatic, but fuck they knew, the spider that dropped on her head from the goddamn ceiling was as big as a hand, hairy and out for blood! And she didn't scream _that_ loud. Only, like, medium-loud. Everyone would scream if they’ve been ambushed in their own bed by a hairy eight-legged thug! And Reaper, her royal bug-catcher, was nowhere to be found to help her out!

Thank God she forgot to lock her doors that night, because she was sure that Jack would simply kick them in, judging by the way he rushed in with a look of a man ready to kill. And she didn't really want to deal with a busted lock in top of everything else.

Now, nowadays she knew that for a veteran with some sort of PTSD dragging behind him, Jack’s reaction to a woman screaming her head off one wall over was as good as it got. Charging in to deal with the threat was way better than some sort of a crippling panic attack. Still, having the dude dressed in boxers and a t-shirt in her flat, staring at her with the most unimpressed look known to man was seriously pissing her off - all the way to the point where Jack sighed something sounding vaguely unpleasant and reached under her pillow to grab the hairy intruder.

As in, in hand.

His _bare as God made it_ hand _._

He picked the spider up, carried it to the balcony and threw it two stories down - and then came back to Sombra, who was on the verge of fainting. The only thing that stopped her was the fear of touching the mattress that was already touched by a spider. But, Jesus Christ on a cracker, her respect for the old man skyrocketed through the ceiling. All this time she was living next to a superhero and she didn’t even know!

He was gracious enough not to mention that few sniffs and a not-tear that rolled down her cheek when the threat was finally gone. And even helped her to flip the mattress over so she wouldn't have to touch the contaminated area.

And that should be enough for a girl to fall in love with a dude, really.

...but then, two days later, said dude barged into her flat when she was eating dinner, loaded with plywood and a toolbox, and started assembling a kitchen cabinet.   

Flabbergasted, Sombra turned back to her tablet and let him to it. Sometimes a man just had to build a cabinet, apparently.

That’s more or less was when she has decided the new neighbour wasn't bad at all and further animosity between them would be just stupid. He touched a spider for her, so, naturally, he had the first pick of her future progeny.

She bundled up the last slice of bread in it plastic bag and stuffed it into her shiny new cupboard that was apparently Jack’s peculiar expression of caring. Briefly, when the man was putting it together, she thought to be offended that he’d just march in like that and take over her kitchen with his tools and planks and dust, but after a moment of thought, nah. Why would she be offended when someone was helping her out?

She has been living out of assorted boxes for over a year and it was starting to get cumbersome. The piles of stuff stacking around her were increasingly more difficult to navigate. The kitchen was the worst – with all of her cooking equipment shoved against the walls and under the tiny isle. Thank god the flat came with an oven or she would be probably cooking her food over an open fire.

 _“Every morning you’re banging pots and pans,”_ Jack said in the way of explanation when her staring finally got to him. _“Gets in the way of my morning news.”_ He was smirking, damn him.

_“Do I have to pay you back for these?”_

_“Don’t sweat it. A co-worker was getting rid of those, I thought they still have some use in them.”_

And sure, they did; they looked pretty much new! Ah well, one man’s garbage etc, the unit found a good home with her.

Sombra called the cupboard Geoffrey. Sounded classy. Like one of those nice ones from IKEA she was never able to afford. There was one scuff-mark on the middle drawer, but she put a sticker on it and there, done, classy as all get out!

It’s not that she didn’t appreciate nice furniture or the order it would bring into her cluttered habitat, simply didn’t see the point of investing in it while there was tech to be bought! Every penny that didn’t go into the ‘Food&Survival’ jar ended up in the ‘Technology I Want’ can that could never be full enough.

In the light of that sticking to her hunk of a neighbour seemed like a sensible idea.

He was the only one in the building willing to borrow her a small kitchen appliance on goodwill alone – no other neighbour had ever paid her much attention. Was it the hair? The nails? The fact that when she moved in she was dating a gangster?  

Nah, it was probably the hair. She’d dropped Adrian’s ass as soon as it became apparent that he was happy to let his future lead him behind bars. He went back to Dorado to drink his problems away with the rest of Los Losers.

Sombra had a future to build for herself, and sure, Bloomington, Indiana wasn’t as prestigious as, say, New York, but it was a decent place to start. The college, for one, greeted her with open arms and a generous learning grant.

The sandwich toaster pinged and scared Reaper into a hilarious jump. Sombra chuckled at the unamused glare the cat sent to the small appliance. The sandwiches done, she wrapped one in a foil, stuffed the other one into her mouth, moaned a bit from the heat and rushed out of the door, bag swung over her shoulder, more or less ready to face the day.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sombra and jack bond over laundry and a slowly dying cellphone. Also PLOT happens ;]

Being the curious creature that she was (and not bored and friendless throughout the Summer when her only two friends went home for the holi, nope), Sombra soon had a dossier for Jack Morrison opened on her mental hard drive.

So far the facts she’s managed to gather were as follows:

The man worked in the garden centre on the other side of the town; in the tool shop - go figure.

He was, without a hitch, waking up every morning at 6, having a ten minute shower, and eating his old man breakfast of bacon and eggs – that she could smell through the thin walls and didn’t envy _one bit_ for, nope.

He listened to the radio during breakfast - always the same station, Local.fm.

Didn’t seem to have any preference towards any specific music genre as far as Sombra knew - she didn’t yet had the chance to get into his gTunes so that was on the hook.

When deep in thought he tended to rub at the scar cutting through his lower lip.

His sight was a bit crap – she noticed that his glasses were quite thick. But he only wore them when reading or driving – far sighted, then? Maybe ashamed of people seeing him wear them. That necessitated further investigation.

Three times a week he was going out for a run in the afternoon and the other four days he used the gym located in the building opposite to theirs.

He didn’t seem to have any friends locally, because Sombra never saw him going out with anyone.

He had a thing every Saturday morning for an hour or two that probably wasn’t anything social, because it was obviously scheduled. Too consistent.

And every Sunday he was going away for a full day. Whenever he came back in the evening his car was dusty to fuck, had to drive off-road. Intriguing. A secret lover? Camping? Who knew.  

Also, Jack hasn’t stopped being a stick in the mud only because he turned out to be awesome - he still obsessed over his sandwich toaster (Sombra wasn’t keeping it hostage, goddamnit) and had a lot to say about the way her flat looked (not her fault that a proper cooling system for the PC was more important than a wardrobe, okay?). He stuck to a really rigid schedule and still couldn’t be bothered to move his car from her parking space.

Also, he should totally stop harassing her cat. Reaper wasn’t super smart, how was he supposed to see a difference between their balconies when the sun was up and he wanted to take a nap? Interrupting a cat’s nap was in bad taste, anyway, didn’t he know that?  

_“You are obsessed with some old man and it’s kinda gross.”_

“Thanks, Song. How about you mind your own business?”

_“I totally would, if you didn’t constantly spam the chat with info about a dude that two months ago you wanted to blast into space.”_

_“Aw, stop it Hana, I think it’s cute! Sombra finally went and found herself a decent father figure!”_

_“More like sugar daddy figure.”_

The peal of laughter spilled over the voice chat, drowning out Sombra’s annoyed scoff. “You’re both losers, you know that, right?” She muttered into the mic built into her headphones, eyes intent on the racing game displayed on her tablet. “Also, watch it Lucciodore, I just left you in the dust!”

_“Aw man, come on! Cut me some slack here!”_

“No can do. Assholes don't get slack.”

_“I am not sure where, but there’s a gross innuendo somewhere in that sentence.”_

“Pay attention to the road, chica, I have you beat!”

_“Over my dead body!”_

Of course, she didn’t win this time - winning against Hana Song was near impossible on a good day. Even taking into account the fact that the girl currently streamed from Korea and didn’t seem to know the meaning of the world _‘sleep’_.

Unfortunately, Sombra did. She was also closely acquainted with the term _‘nightshift’_ and especially closely with the ‘ _this heat is about to rob me of my last breath, send help, I don't want to spend another day in my ancient bathtub trying to cool down_ ’. Short to say, August in Indiana was a Hell on Earth, only marginally better than August in Castillo had been. The scorching days and lack of air conditioning were seriously killing Sombra’s good flow.  

Stuck inside the laundromat, she camped near the biggest fan and the only available electric outlet to stealthily power her tablet. The dude manning the place today was sprawled on the stained counter, snoring softly behind a thin cover of a wrinkled magazine. How could he manage such peaceful slumber with five washing machines and three tumble dryers running cheerfully no more than five feet away from him it was a mystery. Heck, Sombra barely heard her friend's voices over that noise and her headphones were top class material!

 _“Man, I have to dash soon, tho,”_ Lucio said over the clamour. _“Band practice starts in half an hour.”_

 _“One more round, then,”_ Hana the Unbent decided for them all. _“And that will be enough, I have to be in bed before the sun rises. Later today I have cram school.”_

Sombra groaned, “Why do I even hang out with you two workaholics?You disgust me!”

_“Okay Miss Five Night Shifts in a row, we get it.”_

“Ah, so you do have friends that aren’t just mooching off of other people. Good to know.”

“Fuck!”

The tablet almost landed on the floor and the headphones slipped all the way to the back of her head when Sombra startled - and the man guilty for scaring the crap out of her looked on her smugly.

One more information about Jack Morrison, probably the most important one on the list, was that he was still something of an asshole.

And that they’ve been apparently using the same laundromat.

It wasn’t the closest one to the flats, or even the cheapest in the area, but you got a little sachet of a nice smelling fabric softener with every laundry and there was a real coffee machine with a not bad coffee free of charge. So of course it was a superior pick for spending two hours in.

A coffee machine that Jack was currently standing in front of with a shit eating grin on his scarred face. If he dared to wink at her, Sombra swore, he was getting a flying tablet to the crotch.

 _“Oooh,”_ Lucio crooned in her ear. _“A wild dad appeared!”_

Hana sent over a classic exclamation sound from the old spy game she was a fan of.

_“I take it back, I like the guy.”_

“You two are gross.”

Coffee acquired, Jack loaded his bag of laundry into the nearest empty washing machine and parked himself on the chair directly next to Sombra, rising his paper cup in a wordless gesture of greetings. Sombra rolled her eyes and went back to the game. Alas, it was too late, the round has been lost.

With a defeated groan, Sombra logged out of the game and slumped back on the chair. It was made of hard plastic adorned with numerous cigarette burns - which begged the question why, since the laundromat was a no smoking area - and the only way to garner any sort of comfort on it was to stuff a folded up towel under her ass. The towel wasn’t even hers, but what the dude behind the counter didn’t know…

“You cost me the round, papi.”  She said slumping a bit more to the right until Jack’s manly shoulder was the only thing stopping her from slipping off the chair completely.

Fuck, that wasn’t super comfy either. Uh, what was her life.

The man stayed patient and unmoved throughout her wiggling to find a better position and in the end he only sighed when Sombra insinuated herself under his left shoulder and kindly draped his arm over the back of her chair to make more space for her head. Sombra pressed her back into his ribs and hiked her feet on the next seat in the row, her knees serving as a convenient support for the tablet.

There, that was much better.  

They’ve spent some time like that - Sombra focused on a quick coding game and some social networking on the side, while Jack seemed to read something on his cellphone, slowly sipping his cooling coffee.

Unbeknownst to him, Sombra snapped a quick photo of the device hovering over her head with the front facing camera of the tablet - just to secretly see what the man was working with here. And okay, it wasn’t bad. A last year’s model, sure, but a solid buy nonetheless. Big screen - good for them massive ol’ fingers - and decent resolution. Good processor and a quite challenging firewall. She wondered if she should hack it now or wait a few weeks more for the courtesy’s sake.

Huh, additionally, the angle of the photo did Jack some justice.

She sent it to her group chat and set herself to wait for opinions.

“Sombra.”

She perked up at the mention of her name, turning her head, tablet screen habitually switched off with a brush of a thumb. Jack was looking at her from above and she had a momentary scare that he’s found her out…  “Si, senor?”

Jack snorted at her quip and rolled his eyes. “Nothing, it’s just an unusual name.”

Whew, safe!

“You know a lot of names in Spanish?” She asked, straightening out slowly. God, but the chair was still uncomfortable as fuck.

“I know a few,” Jack shrugged. “It’s pretty cool, though.”

“Thanks, gramps, that’s why I chose it.”

He rolled his eyes at her shit-eating grin - which only made the grin bigger - and pushed at her shoulder when she tried to lean against him again. “I’m not that old, you know? I’m only forty two for godssake.”

Sombra’s eyes flew wide open.  “Holy crap, Jack! You’re older than Jesus!”

Not expecting it, he burst out laughing and it was the first time she saw him laugh so openly. It was nice. Not dorky at all. A nice, teeth-flashing, panty-dropping one. It made the scars on his face almost disappear and there was this little way his eyes didn’t close all the way - not to mention the goddamn dimples!

He stopped right away when her tablet camera snapped a photo, gracing her with an expression of a startled cat.

“There!” Sombra mused, saving the picture to her cloud. “I’m going to set up a fake dating profile and catfish the shit out of rich pervy old women!”

Whatever scathing retort Jack had prepared for her, was cut short when the washing machine with Sombra’s laundry pinged, signaling the end of the cycle and the girl danced away from the grumpy man. The dude should know better than be all adorable in her presence, really.

Ten minutes later, with the clothes stuffed into the dryer for a quick run, she sauntered back to her chair, on the way throwing an unsubtle glance at Jack’s phone screen. And that gave her a pause.

The launcher looked familiar, but… wasn’t that model upgraded to Android Donut in the beginning of the year? How was he still using the Strudel’s launcher? Unless…

A cold shiver ran down her spine and Sombra reached for the phone, which startled Jack something awful and quickly dissolved into a struggle for the device. In the end Sombra won only because Jack was a mountain with a level of self-awareness and didn't want to damage her too badly. Also, the shattered expression on her face as she begged for the chance to look at the software might have softened him a bit.

Once she finally got away safely, Sombra dived into the settings and - yep, her suspicions were correct.

“Shit! How is this thing even working? You have almost a year of updates pending!”

Jack looked like a scolded teenager, attempting to hide behind his coffee.

“I don’t have patience for that stuff,” he mumbled.

“…you’re sitting here watching a cold rinse!”

The shrug was somewhat sheepish.

Sombra dropped back on her chair, furiously digging into the software, trying to ascertain what could be done for the poor little bugger.

“Let me fix this so I can sleep well tonight knowing I didn’t left an old man with a phone that will explode in his face.”

Jack looked up somewhat nervously. “I thought they don’t do that anymore.”

“With the way you’ve been treating this baby, I believe it would try to do it out of spite.”

Thank God, he left her to it, opting instead for one of the out of date magazines people left behind in the laundromat to amuse himself with.  

Trusting, ah so trusting, the poor man.

Well, not that she would do something nasty to his phone, she wasn’t a bad person like that. But if she scrolled through more than just the apps and settings during the upgrade no one had to know. Unsurprisingly, Jack’s phone was almost as boring as the man himself. All the wallpapers were stock, only games he had were Tetris and Solitaire - which was never a bad choice, of course, but boring nonetheless. His photos were uninspired as far as she could gather from a quick scroll - no need to go through those, there may be an unauthorised dick pick or something equally personal floating about that she didn’t need to see right now.

Contacts were sparse - and that was a bit sad.

One number, however, stood out: _Ana_ . Huh, it was one of the most often called ones right after _Mom_.

A girlfriend? Possible, because, apart from _Ana_ and _Mom_ , Jack seemed crap at picking up the phone in general - there was about 50 calls from a _Gabe_ that went unanswered and about the same amount from a _McCree_ of some sort.

But the time for snooping was short as the upload ended and Sombra had to restart the device to run it. And then clean up the register and restart it again. And then once more, after she downloaded a decent antivirus and a booster.

There. After she was done with her fiddling half an hour later, the mobile was as protected as she could make it without pulling an actual condom over it. Also, it now contained Sombra’s number with a pretty darn good photo and a new version of the voice chat. Because, Christ on a cracker, Jack had an Instagram!

She was just about to delete the old trash, but a momentary urge had her log in - maybe there were some photos of baby Jack in there? A rosy-cheeked baby or something equally cute!

Well, one surprise was a photo attached to the mysterious _Ana_ \- a pretty hot lady with brown skin and a cool tattoo. Nice. Jack cruised amongst lookers, no ugly potatoes there.

However...

“The hell... Your name is _John_?!”

The man startled and dropped the gardening magazine he was leafing through, giving Sombra a questioning look - before his eyes landed to the phone in her hand. “Are you on my Instagram? Stop it!” He reached for it.

Sombra held the device out of reach as best as she could with her short hands. “No no no, padre! What’s the deal with the name? Also, Instagram? Really? This thing barely runs anymore!”

“It’s a legacy account I’ll have you know! Give it back!”

Well, okay, she couldn’t hold on to it anymore - no matter how much she bonded with the Nokia during administering the CPR the poor little guy needed. She watched mournfully as it disappeared into the front pocket of Jack’s flannel shirt and sighed sadly.

Luckily, her sadness didn't last long when confronted with a fresh secret. “So, John?”

“So, Sombra?”

Ah, crafty old bastard.

“Information for information, then?”

“Alright.”

“Okay, you first!”

He looked at her, decidedly unimpressed, but not annoyed yet, which was a rarity when it came to Sombra’s human relations. Maybe the heat was getting to him?

“I was given my father’s name. Got tired pretty quick of being called Junior so we came up with Jack.”

“Wow, boring!”

Another eyeroll. “Yeah, super boring. I bet yours is more exciting.”

Was she being goaded? Was he honeying her up? It was hard to tell, he was looking at her like Captain America was looking at Spiderman. Fond and exasperated, and fond again.

Hell, she hasn’t seen a decent NMCU move in a while.

“Not much, really.” It was her turn to shrug. “Mama chose the most generic name in the genre and I don’t like it much.”

That got his interest. “What is it?”

Well, tough cookies. “And why would I tell you that, hombre?”

Yes, now it was her turn to be all mysterious and interesting. A good payback for the dude not even telling her that he had an _undercover name_!

Outwardly, it didn't seem to impress him much, but Sombra didn’t mind; she’s got a lot of new info today and it was a win.  

 

* * *

 

The whole outing ended up much better than it has started. For one, Sombra got a lot of new data. For another, she didn’t have to pedal back home in the scorching sun. Jack - being a kind and forgiving soul, put her bike on the back of his pickup and offered her a nice air-conditioned ride home. Bless the man, she almost felt bad for snooping around his phone.

Almost.

“So, who’s Ana? Your girlfriend?”

Luckily, the guy could multitask looking put upon and cruising carefully through the afternoon traffic.

“Did you go through all of it?” He asked, unimpressed.

Sombra crossed her heart. “Just skimmed.” And then, since the gesture called for honesty, she added. “I will go through your stuff.” It was only fair to warn the man. “At every opportunity, you know.”

“Why?” His voice was careful and the look he sent her totally unnecessary.

She shrugged. “Curiosity. I like to know things. It’s nothing personal.”

“Seems very personal.”

“Nah, really isn’t. It’s not like I’ll discover that you’re watching furry porn and suddenly decide to blackmail you or something.”

“That’s a relief. At least my porn is safe.”

“Yeah, you can watch your yiff in peace.”

He made a face at her and they laughed again. It was all very sitcom, to be honest, and it felt strange. Good strange. She didn't quite know how to take it.

Things hasn’t been that _good nice_ in a while for her. Not since her grandma…  

“So, the hot number?”

Jack mumbled something that sounded vaguely like ‘skimmed, my ass’ before answering. “An old friend. Married, with a kid,” he made it before she’s managed to roll her eyes at him.

“Uh, sad.” She let it rest for a moment. “And who’s Gabe? Dude called you, like, fifty times?”

This time the look she got in response was decidedly unfriendly. “None of your business,” and the voice was way too sharp for her question to be innocent.

Okay, a clue. There was something there and poking at it wasn’t welcome.

Well then, she won’t poke, she knew how to be a decent person to the people she liked. Also, walking the rest of the way home wasn’t an appealing concept; better keep the grumpy bear happy and willing to let her stay in the car.

The rest of the ride was pretty silent as Jack’s focus fixed on the road ahead and Sombra went back to her tablet. Even though the traffic was getting pretty thick, it didn't take long for the pickup to roll up on the parking lot.

As they exited the car, some sort of unspoken understanding had Sombra pick up both hers and Jack’s laundry while the man went around the back to get her bike down. She just about rounded the Ford when the tires touched the ground - and Jack stumbled, leaning half on the bike, half on the car with a pained groan, bent nearly in half.

Sombra’s heart jumped in her chest. She dropped the bags of clothes and rushed to his  side, slipping under his arm for the second time today, trying to pull him up.

God, he was heavy. Was she going to have to drag him out of the sun? Was it a stroke? Arthritis? Her granny had that, but Jack was too young… right? God, she hoped it wasn't the heart!

“Jack! What’s going on, papi? You alright?”

“No, it’s… I’m okay.” The bastard had the gall to smile at her! Pat her shoulder in reassurance and smile like her heart didn't just dive down to her stomach! “Just pulled a muscle… fuck, that hurts.”

Sombra stepped back and watched her neighbour pick himself up and attempt to stand straight. The apparent issue has been his back, which he kept awkwardly rubbing with one hand. She took her bike from him and wordlessly chained it to the lantern, using the fact that no one yet parked on the other side of it. By the time she picked up the bags and somewhat calmed her pulse, Jack looked okay, just a bit redder in the face.

“You shouldn’t pick up heavy things in your age, pendejo!” She snapped without thinking.

Jack reached to get his bag from her, but Sombra pulled away from him and with a glare marched up the sidewalk. Predictably, he huffed at her.

“It’s no age, you brat. It’s the implants.”  

“Implants?”

“Yeah. Half of my spine is 3D printed.”

The ride in the elevator was silent and startlingly awkward after the cool time they’ve had at the laundromat. Jack was still in pain, even if he tried to hide it, and Sombra’s consciousness was slow in getting over the scare. _Why_ was she even scared? It made no sense, the man was okay, right? He was _fine_.

Ugh, brains were the worst! What wouldn’t she give for the ability to hack herself and wipe out the data at will!

They split in the corridor to enter their respective flats without a word - that is, until Sombra whipped around, hand on the doorknob, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Hey, take it easy today, gramps, okay?”

Jack looked at her and she looked away, feeling even more awkward all of a sudden.

“I will, thanks.”

“Yeah, make sure you do.” And just because she wasn’t about to end up on such a stupid note, she added. “Skip the gym. I’ll send you some good porn, that should cover today’s workout...”

“Goodbye, brat!”

“Hehe, bye papi!”       

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A third chapter where Sombra gathers even more intel and some angst slips in.  
> Guest starring, Reaper the Cat.

Jack looked at Sombra from the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob, the other in the air, frozen mid-way with a gym bag he was about to drop on the floor. His t-shirt was clinging to his chest at all the right angles and his damp hair was sticking up at the ends in a completely adorable way.

Sombra looked back at Jack from her space on the couch, surrounded by books and scraps of paper, a tablet and a mobile PC on each knee, the coffee table in front of her taken over by bags of junk food and cans of energy drinks. She put her hair up in a messy bun that had a pen, two pencils and a drinking straw sticking out of it.

He blinked and she blinked back. The TV rumbled softly in the distance, the old Spanish telenovela rolling along its well-worn script.

Jack leaned back to look at the number plaque screwed to the door, as if to make sure that he stepped into the right flat. After confirming, that yes, this was nr 76, he finally closed the door.

“How did you even get in…?” He finally said, somewhat helplessly.

Sombra shrugged. “You left your balcony door open again, papi.”

“And why did you use it to get in?”

“You have AC.”

That seemed to be an answer enough, because it dismantled the defensive raise of his shoulders and pulled a sight out of the man that, while signalling frustration, meant that Sombra won’t be booted out of the nice, cool flat.

Jack finally dropped the gym bag on the kitchen aisle and went to take a shower, while Sombra went back to her scribbling.

Really, what did the old man expect when he sneakily dragged that beaten up AC unit into his living room? What was she supposed to do? It was the end of the August and the temperature was hitting an all-time high, and she had a summer project to finish before next term started again. She needed a ventilated space to think properly.

When a strangled growl came through the bedroom door, she only briefly lifted her bead.

_“Why is your cat in my bed?!”_

“He was sleepy.”

_“If he hacks a hairball on the sheets I’m throwing him outta window!”_

No, he wouldn’t. The old dog liked to bark loudly, but he was a soft hearted breed.

Lo and behold, when Jack finally emerged from the bedroom, showered and fresh like a daisy, the black tom was cradled comfortably in the crook of his powerful arm, looking as smug as only a cat can. He didn’t let himself be put down, nuzzling into the man’s stubbled chin whenever the risk of it approached, forcing Jack to prepare his lunch one-handed. Sneaky bastard, Sombra was proud.

Her pleasant routine was disturbed for a moment when Jack pushed her stuff aside – rude – to make enough space to plop down with a plate of re-heated pizza and a can of root beer. Reaper stretched across the man’s knees, pressing his toes into the hard stomach – he probably thought to threaten the big human into sharing his food. Unsurprisingly, it worked; he got a slice of ham for keeping his claws sheathed.

They stayed like that for a while, Sombra tapping at her screens, checking and re-checking lines of code, and Jack going slowly through his lunch, seemingly engrossed in the telenovela. Sombra turned the TV on for the sake of ambient noise more than anything, she liked to work with something going on around. Personally she wasn’t that keen on the love triangle between Alejandro, Maria Rosa and Martin – especially that Martin, in her opinion, could do so much better than the two soft dumplings that tried to get into his pants.

“God,” Jack rumbled at some point, eyes glued to the screen, a root beer in hand, “he is too good for that. The reverend’s daughter is right there!”

That got Sombra’s attention. “Shut the front door, papi, his heart belongs to the neighbour’s boy!”

“He’s a gangster.” Jack dismissed her without a look. “That’s a complication Martin doesn’t need right now.”

Well, yes, okay, she could agree with that. First-hand experience and all. Dating gang boys wasn’t something you wanted to deal with right after recovering the memory you’ve lost in a car accident caused by your evil fake mother and…

Wait a minute!

Sombra looked at the TV more closely, searching for the subtitles, but there were none.

She looked back to Jack, distrust narrowing her eyebrows.

“Hablas español?”

He looked her dead in the eye as he answered. “Si señorita, lo hago.”

Okay, so his accent was as square as his jaw, but _still_.

“Say _churros_!”

Jack rolled her eyes at her. “I know how to roll the r’s, kid, don’t insult me.”

“Where did you learn?” She unceremoniously flopped back on the couch pulled her feet up. After a scolding look she let her flip flops drop to the floor. “You any good outside of telenovas?”

Jack chuckled in his gruff, pleased-bear way. “Rusty. And I’ve heard from trusted sources that my accent does me no favours. I picked it up back in high school as an extra language along with French.”

Would the wonders ever cease?

“You speak French?”

“Sure. A bit of Arabic, too. Some basic Japanese. Polish, from my granny’s side, though I’m better at reading than speaking. Learned some Russian out of necessity, back when we were stationed in Vladivostok. A few words in German, but mostly the inappropriate ones. Always wanted to learn Korean, but never had the time.”

So, a polyglot. This was getting better and better! Sombra did her best to look appropriately impressed, but not too much – the man already had a big enough head, no reason to make him think she was cowed!

It was useful info, thought. Some Russian forums were still giving her troubles and having someone to translate insults for her would be super helpful.

“I guess you get a lot of opportunities to learn that in the army,” she mused, returning to the TV.

“Oh, sure, though I always preferred to learn in the head-y.”

It took her a humiliatingly long ten seconds to realise what just happened.

When she finally did, she turned to him, eyes round with disbelief, mouth open unattractively, working for words that the shock kept back.

“ _Holy shit_ , did you just Dad Joke me?!”

The glint of strong white teeth was her only answer.

Goddamnit, headshot!

Old Dad: 1, Sombra: 0.

She had nothing.

Jesus Christ, if she knew, she would record it or something! Now no one will believe her if she tells them! Even Reaper looked at her as if the whole thing was a figment of her imagination!

“What about you?”

And Jack looked way too pleased with himself! Time to wipe that smug off his perfect fuckign face.

“Oh, the usual. I’m pretty fluent in C+5 and Python, some Ruby on the side and Classic Java - but that one mainly just to score some hipster points.”

“Mhm.” He obviously had no idea what she was talking about. “Sounds good.”

“You interested in coding?”

“I think I might have built a blog page on WordPad back in the day.”

“You’re breaking my heart, Jack, you’re _so old_.”

“And you are free to get the hell out of my flat if you have a problem with that, _chica_ .”

 

* * *

 

 

  
  
The meetings in the Laundromat became something of a thing for them in a short span of time. The dude at the counter even stopped looking at Sombra funny when she was stealing his electricity for her tablet. Probably thought better about pissing off the big, gruff man she was pretty much plastered to nowadays.

The dude didn’t know the half of it, Sombra was like an unfortunate adventure with SuperGlue; at this point to get rid of her Jack would have to remove her surgically.

Not that Jack minded. He looked okay with her hanging off him and barging into his personal space. Apart from a few instances of shying away from her sudden screeching and appearing at his blind side, he was pretty cool about being harassed and booped.

And Sombra wasn’t even trying to be an asshole about it. A veteran was a veteran, so she adjusted her loudness accordingly whenever it was required and tried to make her presence known before Jack had a chance to spook. He was like Reaper in that aspect – both were jumpy lads Sombra had to make allowances for because she wasn’t nearly as good at catching spiders as them.

She still wasn’t sure what happened in the old man’s past to bring hom there, but had enough tact not to question him outright. Some careful snooping let her know what Jack spent pretty much all of his life in the army, because Vladivostok? That was decades ago. If Jack was stationed there during the Crisis, he had to be her age or even younger!

There were a few photos on his Instagram of places way outside of US, a lot of people from all over the world. Jack in various uniforms, accompanied by various people throughout the years - all of them in uniform at some point or another, all decidedly military. The stripes on his shoulders changed with time as he advanced through the ranks. The last one Sombra was able to zoom in and research was a Lieutenant Colonel, two years ago. That was something.

So what was the man doing in Bloomington, of all places, renting a humble one bedroom flat in the cheap part of the town, working a 9-6 retail job and driving around in a beat up truck?

He did say that his spine was fucked, so that was probably the reason for leaving the army – but fuck, there were better things for him to be doing with the skillset he had!

Not that Sombra complained that her neighbour didn’t go off to translate for some foreign dignitaries or carousing all over the world as a tourist. That left him in the flat next to hers, his sandwich toaster in easy reach and his beat up Ford available whenever the Laundry Friday rolled around.

And so far, the Laundry Fridays were the best.

“How’s the project going?”

A swipe of a thumb and the screen disappeared. Sombra smiled at Jack who was giving her a very unimpressed look. Damn him, ever since she invaded his flat he was showing an unnecessary amount of interest in her uni work and doing his best to make her feel guilty whenever she wasn’t working on it as diligently as he thought she should. That was the drawback of having a parental figure that she had forgotten about.

“It’s going good,” she told the truth. “Almost done,” she lied.

Jack, form the look on his face, knew exactly what she was about and, goddamnit, the kid he had raised before he moved into her building had to be the biggest little shit on the planet, because his bullshit-detector was impossible. Either that or being an officer in the US Army gave people superpowers. That was something the man was unwilling to disclose, he just sat there with his boring black coffee and his boring ebook on the boring phone she hacked a week ago and his perfect little smirk he thought she can’t see.

Sombra fought down the urge to show him a finger and instead stretched out on the uncomfortable chair, feeling her back protest loudly. The first rinse was almost done from the looks of it and there was still over an hour to go. She was doing the linens today and all of her towels. Jack, apparently, had the same idea.

The dude had, like, three thousands pairs of socks, what the hell. He even washed them in a drawstring bag, like a complete pro.

Sombra wondered if socks were a deficit product in the army.

Still, the day was still young and the air unpleasantly stuffy. A storm was coming – it would be fine if it could hurry up a bit, because all the humidity was doing so far was messing with Sombra’s hair and makeup. Her eyeshadow was melting, and she could feel her hair trying to join the hemisphere.

A look to the left confirmed that Jack, as a man, didn’t have the same problem. Ugh. However…

He didn’t startle when she leaned over and pulled at the strand of straw-blond hair sticking up on the top of his head.

“You need a haircut, papi.”

That had him pawing at his hair, confused, messing them up even more.

“They’re not that long yet. I’ve spent years with a buzzcut, this is new for me.” He said in a tone of ‘let me have my fun’.

“They still need some styling. Come on, you’re not that old yet! A nice undercut and some moisturiser, and you’ll be chasing ladies away with a stick!”

Because, yeah, now that she had a closer look, the skin on his nose was screaming for rescue.

“Moisturiser?” Jack repeated it at her like a foreign word.

Oh, men, so tragic.

“Jesus, papi, you have a pretty face, but that won’t get you far when your skin starts to peel off. This is Indiana, the sun will chew you out!” She jumped up from the chair, stuffing her tablet into the carry bag, and grabbed Jack by one arm – holy shit, she could not span his bicep with both of her hands! – to pull him up. “Up, up, up, soldier, I know just the place!”

“But the laundry…”

“It won’t go anywhere. We’re gonna be gone twenty minutes, max!”

 

* * *

 

 

  
  
“Now, I’m not gonna do the face masks and shit, ain’t no one has a time for that! We’re both busy people, am I right or am I right?”

“No wet teabags over the eyes?”

“Ugh, gross! We’re getting you an aftershave with a moisturiser and a night cream. That’s it.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep!”

Hell, if she let her old man to look like a peeling shed door! If they were going to be acquaintances, he’d better look his best!

“Hey, what are you laughing at, padre?”

“You remind me of Ana.”

“The lady with the tattoo? She’s kinda cool.”

“Yeah, and just as pushy.”

“Hey!”

 

 

* * *

  
  
  
  
“What for you, sir?”

“Give him the ol’ Steve Rogers, Rosanna!”

“Say no more!”

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but when a towel dropped on his shoulders, he closed it. Smart man.

 _“Where did you pick up such a good looking guy?_ ” The hairdresser asked in  
Spanish.

Sombra considered telling her Jack could understand it. Nah.

 _“In the Laundromat. Bent down to pick some change from under the washing machine and there he was, in a desperate need of haircut.”_ It was much more entertaining to watch him blush right up to his ears.

Accordingly, to her predictions, he was too proper to mention it now that he had an earful and risk the awkwardness. Good man!

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When they finally rolled back into the Laundromat, they were loaded with cold drinks and Jack was looking like a million dollar cheque. The cut wasn’t very severe, but it did wonders for his overall image: it smoothed over the greying strands on the sides, spiked the top and framed the cheekbones better.

Hell, if the moisturiser does its job she may have had to start preparing for Mrs Morrison joining their little happy neighbourly family.

The washing machine with her laundry was off, the little light blinking, urging Sombra to get her shit and let another customer spend their quarters.

Okay, then, Jesus, how pushy!

Balancing an armful of the damp cotton across the room was a bit of a challenge - she might have overestimated herself and shelled out a few more quarters for two loads - as was attempting to stuff it into the tumble dryer. If she slammed it shut a bit harder than necessary, it was between her and the machine. It was fine…

Until it wasn’t.

The dryer switched on and had a pretty good running start before a loud crack went through it, followed by a _thump-thump-thump_!

The thumping noise rose in volume until it filled the room, the few customers present looking around nervously. Sombra looked towards the dude at the counter, who seemed unconcerned, more interested in the magazine than the structural integrity of the equipment he was supposed to look after. Rolling her eyes at the ineptitude, she looked up at Jack - or at least tried. All she saw were his back, as it disappeared through the door without an explanation, and the laundry trailing after him on the floor.

Sudden worry gripped her and Sombra rushed after her neighbour, screaming over her shoulder at the dude minding the place to switch the dryer off, goddamnit, before it sets itself on fire!

Jack didn't get far - he was standing on the other side of the street from the shop, seemingly staring at an uninteresting stretch of bare wall in front of him, but after Sombra came up closer, she realised that the man’s eyes were closed tight. His fingers were also closed into tight fists at his sides, his breathing fast and shallow, but forcefully regular. He was pale and his face was covered in sweat that Sombra was sure wasn’t caused by the weather.

Shit, was that an an anxiety attack? Was it the PTSD showing its ugly head? Shit, what…

The dryer! Was it the noise?

“Hey, Jack…? Are you okay?”

She didn't reach out to touch him, afraid of startling the man even more, just… stayed back, wringing her hands like an old woman, trying to ascertain if she should get help. But who to even call? Ambulance service? Did Jack have any emergency contacts on his phone?

Would it look cold if she whipped out her tablet and asked the internet what to do when a veteran friend was suffering some sort of a panic attack brought on by a faulty cleaning equipment?!

Thankfully, she was saved from her own emerging panic attack by a quiet, somewhat strangled-sounding voice. “I’m fine… I’m - fine. I need to pick up the clothes...”

Except Jack didn't look anywhere close to being fine and ready to back into the laundromat. The way he didn't open his eyes and spoke to the wall pretty much gave him away.

“Hey, you wanna go and sit in the car?” Sombra scrambled for a solution. “I will pick up the stuff and… we can hang it on the balcony, or something? ” Her confidence grew when she saw the tense line of Jack’s shoulders soften slightly at the offer. “It’s too hot for this shit anyway, let’s go back home.”  

“Yeah.” He rasped out after a moment. “Yeah, good thinking, let’s do that.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The drive was tense, even though Jack tried to cover his slip with a bit of humour that fell flat as soon as it left his mouth. In the end he just switched the radio on and let the hapless modern pop fill the silence in the car.

Sombra was fine with that, her heart just about stopped trying to kill her via an unauthorised stroke.

At the parking lot each of them grabbed their own bag of laundry and marched up the stairs, ignoring the elevator, because Jack shied away from it like a startled animal.

No tight, noisy spaces, got it.

Sombra closed the door of her flat with a quiet click and dropped the laundry bag in the kitchen area, barely missing Reaper who trotted around for his customary pets. Instead of scratching behind his ears, she picked the cat up and hugged it.

“Reaps, that was so fucked up.”

She wasn’t even angry at the damn dryer for breaking - and certainly not at Jack for freaking out like that. She was angry at herself, for being totally useless in the one moment when Jack needed actual help. Obviously, it took her by a surprise, but still - that wouldn’t do. At all.

“Come on, amigo,” she muttered to the cat, her feet carrying them towards her mattress bed and the laptop stuck in the charging station next to it. “We have some research to do.”

Because Sombra wasn’t about to be caught unprepared next time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

About five hours later the light from Jack’s window was about the only thing keeping her awake. The silly man left the balcony door open again. Probably forgot, after he finished hanging the laundry to dry - not surprising, after the twentieth pair of socks things tended to get a bit blurry.

Sombra tiptoed to the rail separating the balconies and gently set the cat down on the other side of it, giving it a little push to make him move. Smart boy, he got the idea and slipped through the crack in Jack’s door with little to no trouble.

Well, it wasn’t a service dog or anything, but he liked to cuddle and Sombra had a feeling that Jack would appreciate some cuddles right about now. For now it had to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another boring day in the lives of the tiny family unit - until a wild McCree appeared:O

“Hey, Jack!”

“Yes?”

“Can you raise two fingers up and smile for me?”

The look Sombra got in return was as unimpressed as it was humanly possible – there was something in the way Jack’s eyebrows worked that made him able to turn his goody-handsome-teacher-replacement-kind-of-a-face into a frown personified. Sombra shrunk back into the couch cushion, tablet safely hidden behind her back.

“Are you seriously catfishing?”

“…no?” That was the good answer, wasn’t it?

Jack sighed as if the world was slowly bearing down on him and decided that the best place to hide from it was behind his newspaper. “Will you stop if I pay you?”

Sombra gave it some thought. “Monthly instalments?”

A noise that sounded a lot like ‘I can’t believe it’ came from behind the paper before the man himself appeared again with an angelic smile on his face and two fingers raised in a mock-salute. Sombra snapped a photo with glee.

Then looked at it carefully.

Wait a moment. The fingers were facing the other direction...

“Did you just gave me a rude gesture, papi?”

The newspaper shrugged and made a slight harrumph that might have meant anything, but was probably a way for the man behind it to hide a chuckle.

Because Jack chuckled. That was another point in her dossier that Sombra underlined with a purple highlighter, because fuck, that was important. For someone who generally sounded like he gurgled gravel every morning, John “Jack” Morrison, when surprised enough, could _chuckle_.  And no, it was as cute as it sounded.

“I can’t believe it,” Sombra moaned, flopping back on the cushions. “Here I am trying to make honest living, and there you are, being all rude about it.”

“I’m really sorry.”

He didn’t sound like he was. Not one bit.

She moaned a bit more about the injustice of it all, but soon gathered herself up, and sent the photo to her chat. She was careful to include the plate with a half-eaten stack of pancakes on the counter in front of Jack as a proof that yes, she’d made him food today.

It was a new thing in their strange little relationship – joint breakfasts.

Only because Lucio wouldn’t stop bothering her about it, though!

Dos Santos and Song made it their lives’ goal to make Sombra out to be a villain that lived off of the poor unfortunate veteran that had the misfortune to move in next door to her. As if she was a witch that had the dude wrapped around her finger and used him as a taxi service and… and okay, so she got Jack to drive her here and there _sometimes_ and always used the chance to go with him to the Laundromat. And she did, technically, move into his flat for the hottest days of summer - but only because he let her! And she still owed him for that kitchen cupboard he’d assembled – not to mention the spider from back then!

… So okay, yeah, she was _kinda_ living off of Jack and it would be a bit cool to repay him for being a decent dude when he absolutely didn’t have to be.

And since a premium blowjob would feel super strange for both of them, some home cooking it was!

Not that it was anything to write home about (a blowjob was superior in that aspect at least), Sombra wasn’t a great cook to begin with. She grew up with her granny, who was a working woman with no time to teach a wayward grandchild that preferred to ride bikes all day to slaving over the pots. Then Sombra lived in the foster home where food came pre-packaged – and then she lived alone.

She could make pancakes, though. Really good ones. Plain flour, milk, eggs and butter were cheaper I'm the long run than frozen waffles, so she has perfected her crepes throughout the years to be as filling as possible on four ingredients or less. Sometimes she could splurge out on some chicken and cheese, and hello poor-man’s croquettes! Nowadays, since Jack’s fridge had more than 3 things in it, holy shit, they were eating like royalty.

Jack, as it happened, was also getting quite tired of his staple plate of bacon and eggs. So three days a week Sombra was getting up at the godforsaken six in the morning and shoving her way into the flat 76 to make pancakes.

Then, two days out of four left, Jack was letting her in with a plate of bacon already prepared for her.

The other two days were unmanned; because you could only spend so much time in  someone else’s company before both of you started to develop allergies. But it was nice, it felt comfy. A routine of some sort that felt good to both of them.

Most of all, it made her friends shut up, which was always a plus.

It made them somewhat jealous, too, because Lucio - between his various clubs, charities and uni work - rarely had the time to do more than grab a protein bar for breakfast. And Hana lived off of junk food and Cola, because cooking skills were one thing she wasn’t blessed with at birth. Meanwhile, here was Sombra, eating healthy, filling breakfasts and enjoying the life of a part-time freeloader.

And, looking at the cat sprawled currently on Jack’s lap, Sombra decided that she wasn’t the only one who enjoyed herself.   

Reaper grew attached to their neighbour alarmingly quickly. A few times over the last few weeks Sombra had caught them both dozing on the couch, the cat curled up on the man’s chest like it owned the whole estate. And no wonder, it was a nice manly chest; she’d curl up on it too, if she were a cat.

Funny, looking at him, she would’ve pegged Jack to be a dog person. Big guys like that usually wouldn't publicly cuddle with a friendly feline. Knowing what she knew of Reaper, she never suspected him to be a human person either --cat  --whatever! He was a bit of an asshole - that’s what she meant. He never seemed to accept any of her boyfriends and wouldn’t be caught dead cuddling up to anyone.

...but then, a big, burly man was never on hand to cuddle him before now.

Hm, Reaper might have been gay and she never knew. Wow.  

“Come on, kid, it’s getting late, we better get a move on.”

Thrown out of her reverie, Sombra stashed the tablet in her travel bag and got a move on. They haven’t been late to work yet, but every day Jack acted as if they were on a timer with someone just waiting for them to slip up and fail. Even if there wasn’t really any way to fail a morning routine. Still, they put the dishes away, swept the counter, let the cat out and gathered stuff for the road - all that done in precise order. Jack has even found time every morning to make his bed. As if he’d never left the army.

Well, he might have not. Being precise and punctual was probably drilled into his head from the get go, so Sombra didn't complain too much. From the articles she’d read - set routine was apparently a good thing for someone with anxiety, so yeah, she could roll with that. Especially, when it got her free transport to work on top of everything else.

Because, as the new term started at the uni, her old manager has been swapped for some sort of an asshole pod-person unwilling to understand that a full time student on a stipend may need set shifts. The problem arose quickly - pretty much as soon as Sombra got her uni schedule and realised that the world was a cruel and uncaring place.

Luckily, the world didn’t know that she had a secret ace in her sleeve. Jack was so big, sensible and strangely resourceful, that he’d sorted the world out right between his morning coffee and a bagel.  

 

* * *

 

_“They are looking for help in the coffee shop in the garden center.” Jack said from behind the newspaper, the radio playing some old rock in the background._

_Sombra, hunched over the coffee table, stopped typing and looked over her shoulder at him. “There’s a coffee shop at the garden center?”_

_He shrugged. “There sure is. I saw a wanted ad, they’re looking for a barista. Could put in a good word for you. That is, if you’re interested.”_

_“Who the fuck goes to have coffee at the garden center?”_

_“Language.” He smiled, sipping at his coffee. “Mostly old dads. They come over on the weekends and talk about old dad stuff.”_

_“Like, sport and fishing, and shit?” It was hard to wrap her head around it._

_“Sometimes it’s old moms.” Another shrug. “If you feel you can stand to listen to conversations about twenty different types of drying paint and potted perennials, I can ask Joanne to have a look at your CV.”_

_“I can only do weekends.”_

_“The centre gets most of its traffic on weekends.”_

_“Set shifts?”_

_“They’re open nine to eight so I guess that’s what they have.”_

_“I only have a bike, tho.”_

_“You can ride with me in the morning.”_

_“But you don’t work weekends.”_

_“I am still passing the centre on my way to the VA meeting on the Saturday and on Sunday when I’m going to the farm.”_

_Wait, stop, rewind._

_“You have a farm?!”_

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Jack had a farm. Wrap your head around that wild idea.

“Hey, papi, when are we going to visit the farm?”

“Me, in about an hour. You? Never, hopefully.”

“Ay, you’re no fun!”

“There’s no wifi on the farm.”

“No fun at all!”

The thing was, she wasn’t really that set on visiting the farm - she was city born’n’bred, and proud of it. She probably had a host of allergies that she didn’t even know about, that would attack viciously the moment she stepped off of a paved surface and closer than thirty feet to corn. Was there something like corn allergy? If there was, she probably had it. And she was never good with animals bigger than Reaper, anyway, they tended to scare her. Probably smelled funky, too.

It was just that…

“There’s no animals at the farm,” Jack cut into her rambling easily. The morning sun was glaring at them through the front windshield, making the photochrome on his glasses kick in, turning them into shades - which resulted in Jack looking unintentionally pretty cool. “Well, apart from the chickens and Athena, and they're all pretty safe.”

That, for some reason, was a bummer. “No cows? Horses?”

“Nope.”

“Corn?”

“No corn,” half of his mouth was trying to ride up, so he was having fun. “Ma’ has a vegetable patch and an orchard, and that’s about it. Oh well,” he shrugged, “there’s also bees, but they stay in the orchard and mind their own damn business.”

Bees? Okay, it was decided, she would get stung and swell like a balloon the moment she entered the farm. Better not tempt fate.

Still…

“Eating you right up, isn’t it?” Jack looked at her above the glasses, a smirk now firmly in place.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, gramps.” Sombra groused, folding her arms across her chest. “Watch the road, I have to live at least until the finals.”

Oh, and now he was chuckling again. Great. Just great. “You know what curiosity did to the cat, kid.”

Thank god they were just by the centre. Jack swerved into the a waiting bay and, without turning the engine off, let her out . Sombra jumped down from the truck, her bag swaying against her hip, and with a short wave bounced across the tarmac to the main entrance. She only jolted once when Jack honked at her.

Asshole.

 

* * *

 

Now, the barista stuff Sombra had down pat. It was like she was born with a coffee grinder in one hand and a cup of steamed milk in another. If not for the teenage dreams of becoming the best hacker in the whole wide world, she probably would’ve been planning on how to open up a cafe of her own or, at the very least, owning a coffee beans plantation by now. She knew all about her cappuccinos and macchiatos, and how to pour milk into a latte to make a cool pattern, and all that jazz. That she was down with.

What she had to get used to in her new job was the idea of people who didn’t really feel the need for _flair_ in their coffee.

The first day on the job and she’s already heard at least three variations of the  “I just… black with milk?” by a host of old dads accompanied sometimes by some old moms that smiled at their husbands with pity and then side-eyed Sombra knowingly as if they were both on some joke the poor bloke wasn’t aware of. As if, haha, the men are so simple, right? Now, I’d like a caramel latte with extra cream and flat white for the hubby.

Then there were the little old ladies who wanted tea - and you know, just normal tea, with hot water and a bag in a cup, the way Lena makes it for me? Yeah, Earl Gray was fine, as long as it was tea and are you serving biscuits? Oh, Lena always knows how I like my tea.

So yeah, Sombra had to change her gears after coming from the busiest cafe on the campus, where the patrons seemed to make a sport out of ordering the most outrageously hipster shit possible and the staff had to think on the fly how to make cinnamon and hazelnut not taste like cigarettes or what the hell a peach chai mochaccino was supposed to be? In the garden centre, the pace was… manageable.

Glacial. That’s what it was. Glacial.

It was a torture and a blessing in one go. Torture, because an uneventful day took around three years to end on the average. Blessing,  because Sombra’s new manager - Joanne - was perfectly fine with her bringing books and notebooks on shift. As long as the counters were clean, cakes in the display cabinet fresh, and dishes done, she was free to park her pretty head behind the milk steamer and catch up on her projects. As long as she wasn’t flashing her phone around, that is, because Joanne was an older lady and very old school in that aspect - in her eyes technology was for fun and there was no fun allowed on shift.

Not that shifts were completely boring, not with Lena on board.

Lena Oxton, an exchange student form England, was… special.

Very, eh, specific. Weird in that British way, Sombra imagined. She called cookies ‘biscuits’. Used words like “cheers” and “lollygagging”. Her lunches consisted of a heart attack in a box - and what were these limp mushrooms? Fried tomatoes, really? - that maybe Jack could stomach on a good day, but certainly not anyone normal. Not only she drank strictly tea, but she was adding milk to it, bleh!

Which might have been a good thing, all in all, because what would a drop of caffeine do to that unstable atom of a girl? God knew, but it sure wouldn't be pretty. She was already everywhere at once, generating more energy that was even remotely necessary in this line of work, nearly teleporting from place to place.

And never shutting up. Not even for a moment. Her chatter was so pervasive that soon enough Sombra had noticed that the silly British phrases like ‘bloody’ and ‘bum’ entered her own vocabulary and that was a dark day. The old people coming in for the coffee and cake loved her, though, making Sombra feel like she had to live up to some impossible standard when it came to preparing goddamn breakfast tea!

Good think that Oxton was as fucking adorable as an overeager puppy and owned a blue/yellow Honda racer that was Sombra’s ticket back to town when their shifts aligned, and the reason for at least three almost-heart attacks she’d experienced so far. The Bumblebee tore tarmac like it had wings , because for all her petite built, Lena’s foot weighed somewhere around fifty pounds.

Still, the pay was decent and the pace was alright, and in a short time Sombra decided that she likes it there. It was a good swap, even if she was somewhat cut off from the uni’s gossip bloodstream. She could deal with that.

And she owed Jack a big one for setting it up for her.

 

* * *

 

The opportunity to repay the Big One came up in November.

Two weeks of half-term break were a golden opportunity to bank in some more cash for her slim account. Five days a week were a bit more than she’d like to spend in the garden centre surrounded by middle-aged people, but a must was a must. It wasn’t that bad when Oxton was there to entertain her and she also had Jack to bother.

At least, until he got sick.

Being a real manly man with a military past, admitting that he had a cold was way above Jack’s emotional capabilities.

Hence Sombra’s march across the garden centre with a cup of mint tea spiced with honey in one hand and a fresh cheese toastie in the other. Jack was a big boy, he needed his cheese, and since he refused to take any cold medication - the Manly Man Syndrome had a fast hold on him - he was a big ball of sniffles and aching head until Sombra used subterfuge. Mint and honey covered the artificial tang of Advil pretty well, and Jack’s congested sinuses helped with making the flavours pretty indistinguishable from one another.

That was the sort of sneaking around that had Sombra feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. It was for the old man’s own good, of course.

“Hey, grandpa, how’re you doing?”

Mr Lindholm gave her a stinky eye, but then again, it might have just been the way his eyes were; it was hard to tell with these massive eyebrows in the way. The shift manager at the hardware store was even more of a hardass than Jack, meaning that Sombra never wasted a chance to rile him up.

The first time she met him was like goddamn Christmas, because the man looked just like a goddamn Santa - if Santa was a garden gnome and drove a bigass, old, banged up Volkswagen Turret. A super buff garden gnome that looked at you like he’s fully aware that he can take you.

Sombra never doubted that he could.

“Where’s Jack?”

Mr Lindholm heaved a tortured sigh and, without turning away from the display of gardening tools, pointed to the right over his shoulder and grunted out, “Fencing.”

That was Sombra’s cue to disappear, so she did. She didn’t want to risk her life by asking additional stupid questions, like: how to get to these ‘Fences’; she had a phone, it should take over from here.

A quick visit to the app store later, she was pretty confident about entering the labyrinth of tools and timber, sure in her ability to find the way to Jack before the tea and the sandwich cooled. God, who would have thought that there was so many different types of nails around? How did one know what type to even use? It had to be something that came to you once you became a dad or a grandpa - light shone from the Heavens and singing angels downloaded terabytes of new knowledge into your head, and from that point on you were a certified master at putting stuff together.

Sombra wondered if it worked on women too. It would be totally cool to wake up a day past forty and know how to fix the sink or put a table together.

However, her musings were interrupted once she neared the fabled land of Fencing, when a very irritated and familiar voice rounded the corner to reach her ears.

“What the hell are _you_ doing here?”

What the hell, has Jack seen her? Did he smell her coming? And what with the antagonism all of a sudden?

“I came to shop, old man.” Another voice answered her questions. It was male, younger than Jack’s, with a funny tilt to it. “Last I checked it was still legal in Indiana.”

Oh, that was interesting.

Sombra crept closer to the end of the shelving unit and peeked around it. Jack was easy to spot in his navy blue shirt with the company’s logo on the back and apart from looking exceptionally put out, he was fine, so Sombra dropped him from her radar. Instead, she let it zero in on the dude standing opposite the old man and, okay.

Okay. Nice. Mid-twenties, tanned, wide like a freaking lumberjack - sadly, not many men in Bloomington possessed Jack’s waspish waist, but there was something so say in favour of more bear-like dudes. He was decked out similarly to Jack’s casuals - red flannel, blue jeans, the only difference being worn cowboy shoes and a cowboy hat.

So, a _cowboy_ was bothering her papi. Was the Fencing somewhere in the middle of a Twilight Zone? The app lied!

“How did you find me?” Jack asked the new guy, not exactly sharply, more like… suspicious?

“I wasn’t even looking for ya, honest. I’m here for,” the guy fished out a crumpled piece of paper out of his shirt pocket, “30 yards of fencing net, medium sized zip ties and a roll of 0.25 steel wire. Ma’ needs ‘em on the farm.”

The suspicion grew accordingly. “What are you doing on the farm?”

“Helping her fix up the chicken fence.” The dude had a nice grin, no wonder he caused Jack’s hackles to raise.

“McCree!”

“Calm down, Morrisson. The work’s slow and I took some time off. Gen wanted to visit Ma’, so here we are.”

Jack’s voice was long-suffering as he rubbed a hand down his face. “Genji’s here too?”

“Sure is. Taking another stab at beekeeping.” McCree shrugged and smiled charmingly enough to soften the lines on Jack’s face for a moment. “And you’d know that we’ve planned to come over if you’d stop ignoring my calls. How many times I’ve tried to get through to you, thirty? I think at least ten this month so far.”

Oh damn! Damn! That was the McCree from Jack’s contact list! Sombra put the new information into her dossier. McCree was a cowboy and a looker at that!

The hat was poked with a finger to rest a bit higher. “I’m not gonna report to Gabe if that’s what you’re afraid of, I ain’t that kind of...”

“Shut up!” Just like that, the lines were back. And with them descended The Frown. “Don’t mention him!”

“Jesus, Jack, still? It’s been two years already, can’t you get over…”

“McCree, I can and I _will_ escort you out of this store.”

Aw man, the situation was turning unpleasant. Even though new intel was raining from the sky, Sombra decided to step in and stop the brewing storm from turning into something ugly. Jack’s fuse was usually longer than this - the cowboy had an uncanny skill of igniting it mid-way.

So, like a real badass, she stepped out of her hiding spot and swaggered over to the two men. “Hey, esse! What are you doing, bothering my old man?”

Their reactions to her appearance were as expected. The cowboy checked himself and leaned away from the older man, while said older man looked at her with a long-suffering plea.

“Sombra, _please_.”

“Old man?” The cowboy eyed her before turning a surprisingly excited gaze on Jack. “Jack, you hiding out a new sister on us? I’m crushed!”

“No, that’s…”

“Here you are, running away to Bloomington on your very own and starting a new family without telling anyone?”

“McCree…!”

“Gen will fuckin’ cry, I tell you. Not to mention Fareeha! You know she always wanted a sister!”

“Jesse!”

Holy shit, that was virtual mine of info right there! Sombra couldn't let it get away!

Not wasting time, she showed the toastie and the cup of tea into Jack’s hands, and then pointed her free palm at the cowboy. “Sombra.”

The man shook it without pause, brown eyes measuring her top to bottom. His hand was big and warm. “Jesse McCree. Jack adopted you, too?”

“Nah, I adopted him.”

That had Jesse bursting out laughing while Jack released a  moan that brought to mind some forest creature dying in great pain.

“Right on, sister,” the cowboy patted her on the shoulder, all friendly-like. “Here we were, all worried about the old man alone in the big, wide world, and he had someone to take care of him all the while.”

The guy had a really nice smile - wide, open, and his cheeks even dimpled! The goatee was a bit of an overkill, but it seemed to strangely fit his overall style. Sombra’s fingers ached to reach for her phone and snap a photo. Lookit losers, I have acquired a brother and he’s hot!

Jack, however, had different idea.

“Don't you have job to go back to?” He cut into the moment without mercy, the party pooper. “And you,” he pointed at the cowboy with his cup of tea. “You get the stuff and back to the farm!”

Sombra was having none of this, though.

“You drink your tea, papi, it’s good for you!” She sniped back. “And you, hombre, when you’re done here with Mister Miserable, how about you stop for a coffee at the local cafe?” Damnit, she should have at least fixed her hair. There was nothing to do about the branded t-shirt, but at least her braid wouldn’t be falling apart.

“Coffee, you say?” Jesse made a show of considering her idea before giving her another of these sweet smiles. “Only if it comes with something sweet.”

Oh, he was smooth alright.

She made sure to bat her eyelashes appropriately. “We have quite a selection of sweet things.”

“Shucks, ma’am, guess I’ll sample the goods, then.” He tipped his hat at her.

_Tipped. His. Hat. At. Her._

Jack groaned in the background like a disappointed parent, but both Sombra and Jesse ignored him with similar ease. They were having a moment here - a moment where two schemers met and recognised one another for what they are.

The day could _not_ get any better.  

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think , guys, this story will be longer than I thought at first XD

_“Good one, Sombra, but I'm not buying it!”_

“Song, I swear to God, it's total truth! He even wears a damn hat! And he called me ma’am! Lucio, back me up here!”

_“I don't know, girl, it's a bit of a tall order to believe.”_

_“Pics or it didn't happen!”_

“I can't believe you, assholes. And I used to call you friends!”

She had the shittiest friends in the world! Good thing that the new people in her life were shaping up to be a superior product!

_“Sombra, pay attention to the game, we’re getting lambasted!”_

“Keep your knickers on, Song, I’m coming!”

A sound that came from Lucio’s channel sounded like choking. _“...knickers?!”_ He gasped out. _“What kind of…”_

Aw damn, one more thing that Lena rubbed on her. Gross.

“I got it from a new friend.” Better play it cool. “A good friend that doesn't mock me like you two pieces of… watch the left!!”

_“Got it!”_

_“Okay, okay, girl,”_ Lucio, whom just had his ass saved by Sombra’s quick use of freezing spell, had the grace to sound apologetic. _“So, the cowboy. He a good guy?”_

Aw, protective friends were the best!

“He is. We had coffee and talked shop for a bit.”

As in, Jesse had a coffee and a strawberry cheesecake, while Sombra tried to find time to stop by him in between customers. Thankfully, it was past lunchtime, so there wasn’t much of a crowd and they could more or less talk in peace.

After Jesse flashed one of those illegally charming smiles at Joanne, that is.

 

* * *

 

“So, how did the two of you meet?” McCree beat her to the punch on that one.

“Living next door,” she answered. Rule one of a successful interrogation - keep as much information to yourself as possible. “You?”

“Punched him in the face when I was fifteen.”

Okay, now she regretted giving him extra cream on the house. “How did it go for you?”

“As well as you’d expect.”

Yeah, she could imagine it - a scrawny kid with a temper squaring up with a Jack that was just a decade younger, form the looks of it. With a Jack that was most probably at the top of his military career.

“Did it hurt a lot?”

God, Jack had to pack a punch like a suburban Prom.

Jesse picked a piece of crust with his fingers and daintily put it in his mouth before answering, “Depends what kind of pain we’re talking here. He hugged me afterwards.”

That would do it. A scrawny teen with a grudge that just got schooled, being consoled by said teacher? A hit to the ego the size of a meteor.

“Not to mention the talking to I got from Gabe. My skin almost peeled off from the heat!”

Sombra got a few minutes to mull that over while she tended Mrs Veccio’s cream tea, and when she came back to the end of the counter where Jesse McCree was perched, she's found her spot taken by an excited Brit.

“You really a cowboy, luv?” Lena was all over the place, the way only she could vibrate while standing seemingly still.

“Sure am, darlin’” Jesse made a motion like he was tipping his hat at her, “I can be whatever you want.”

“Oy,” Sombra butted in, pushing Lena to the side with a less than subtle power of the elbow. “No romancing coworkers, McCree!” He was shaping up to be a right headache. “I’ve just learned I have a brother and you’re already making my life difficult?”

Okay, she might have not spoken that little fact out loud, because now she had to deal with a chuckling cowboy and a co-worker squeeing into her ear.

“Oh my God, you’re siblings? For real? You don’t even look alike!”

“Aw, sugar, don’t say that. We’re both pretty, that should be enough.”

“I know, but…!”

The not so subtle glance at Sombra’s black roots (time to dye again, actually, maybe pink this time?) and Jesse’s brown mane, their eyes and cheekbones (hers were sharper, but his were higher) had Lena shake her head in disbelief. Tactless as only she should be, she blurted out, “But Sombra, you said you have no family!”

“I have Jack,” Sombra shrugged lazily. “He’s my new dad.”

“Okay, now I know you’re shitting me!”

Jesse looked at her in mild surprise. “You’re serious about it.” There was something like joy in his voice now, completely different and more honest sounding than the glee form before.

“Of course I am!” As if she would claim just anyone like that! “Free dads of this calibre don’t happen often.”

“He’d built you a thing, didn’t he?” There was a knowing smirk.

“Right on, he did! But that’s nothing. He touched a spider for me!”

“Oh shit. Yeah, he does that.”

“A spider?” Lena gasped, paling a bit. “Bloody hell.”

Fuck the interrogation, it seemed that the full story was in order.

“Listen up, pendejos, I will tell it only once!”

 

* * *

 

So, she told them about the day she moved into the flat, the first meeting with her grumpy neighbour. The instant mutual dislike and the grudge that grew between them for the first year of their acquaintance. And then about the rainy night when it all came to a head, Jack turned out to be a pretty swell guy all-round and their friendship bloomed.

During her story she observed the cowboy closely, and even though he kept on his bland, handsome smile, there were thoughts shifting behind it.

Recognition, amusement, some sort of kinship and a bit of tenderness. Like he knew, could see it as she saw it, could relate to her story in ways she wasn’t even sure were possible.

When she finally finished, Jesse nodded once and said quietly, “Yeah, he does that.”

It could mean the spider thing again, but Sombra doubted it was only that.

They almost had another moment right there, if not for still present local Brit.       

“Oh god, thank you, I thought he was some gross sugar daddy!” Lena sighed theatrically.

Which was almost freaking hurtful on one side, and kinda flattering on the other. If Sombra ever went for a sugar daddy, she’d be hard pressed to find someone as good looking as Jack. If she ever dropped low enough to go for a sugar daddy, that is.

Jesse, meanwhile, stuffed the last bits of the cheesecake into his mouth and laughed. “Naw, Jack wouldn’t fall for a spring lamb like Sombra.”

Okay, now she felt insulted!

“Why the hell not? I could totally seduce one handsome papi!”

“Not this one, you wouldn’t,” Jesse’s smile grew according to her irritation.

“I _so_ would.” She _so_ wouldn’t. “I have charm to spare and an ass to kill!”

“And unless you also have a dick between those nice legs, that won’t get you far this time.”

“Le gasp!”

She didn’t know which one of them gasped, her or Lena, but Gasp in-fucking-deed.

Her dad was gay.

The world seemed to open to completely new scenarios in a speck of a moment.

Holy shit, she had an old gay dad, as if things weren’t good enough! Now she won’t have to spend any time trying to chase any old pervy women away from Jack and his nice, air conditioned flat.

She wasn’t yet sure how she felt about possible gay sex that may happen on the other side of her very thin wall at some point, but that was a problem for another day. If push came to shove, she was going to try to be supportive.

Also, she didn’t ignore the included compliment, she was getting there.

“You think I have nice legs, then?” She purred, leaning seductively on the Counter.

“Sure do, sugar.” McCree took her advance in stride. “Fitting the rest of the package.”

Smooth.

But Sombra wasn’t far behind. She looked down, dragging a fingertip over the empty dessert plate between them, gathering the crumbs that she then licked delicately off her finger. Oh yeah, he swallowed hard.

“You want something else, maybe a muffin? On the house this time.”

“Darlin’, Ma’ raised no fool. I’ll eat whatever is put in front o’ me.”

“Guys, this is getting really uncomfortable,” Lena’s choked up voice cut into their moment. “All that hetero flying around, I am gasping here. Cut it out!” And then she added. “Aren’t you supposed to be family, anyway?”

Oh, yeah, right. Damnit!

 

* * *

 

_“So, you have an adopted brother, I’m glad for you.”_

Goddamn him, but dos Santos always sounded so freaking heartfelt and honest it never failed to dissolve all of her sarcastic defenses.

 _“First a new dad and now a bro,”_ Hana didn’t, but she had her own charm going. _“That’s pretty rad.”_

“Jesus, Song, get on with the program. It’s 2077 not the last century.”

 _“In just thirteen years 90’s will be back in fashion, just you wait!”_ _  
_

 

* * *

 

At some point between the lattes, Jesse asked offhandedly: “Have you been to the farm yet?”

Sombra pouted. “No.”

“Ah.”

What the hell that meant?

 

* * *

 

 

_“Your old man has a farm?”_

“Yeah apparently.”

_“Sweet. Any animals? Corn?”_

She had to snigger at that, for some reason everyone’s - including her - natural assumption was that Jack was a corn farmer.

“Nah, just chickens and bees.”

 _“Bees?”_ Sombra could hear how Lucio’s eyes grew three sizes and started to shine. _“That’s so cool.”_

 

* * *

 

“So, tell me about the rest of the family! Who’s Ana? She seems like a cool old lady. And who’s Gabe?”

At that something weird happened. Jesse tensed and cast a quick look around, as if he expected a grim reaper to appear over his shoulder out of the blue. Was that an effect of invoking the Gabe?

Curious and curiouser.

“Listen, sugar, I really have to go back before Ma’ Morrison starts worryin’.” And that was an evasion if she ever seen one. “Tell you what. Let’s meet sometime, eh? Somewhere where we can both sit down and have a drink.”

Oh, so it was more than that. It was just a wrong place and wrong time.

She took the napkin he scrawled his number on and tucked it into her jeans with a, “Sure, let’s do it. Wednesday afternoon good for you?”

“Darlin’ I’m on holiday, every day is good for me.” Another one of these knee-melting smiles. “But yeah, Wednesday’s good. Just tell me where to pick you up from.”

Oh, a gentleman with a car. Splendid.

“Okay.”

As he was turning to go, McCree looked back with a smirk, “I may bring a surprise, sister.”

A wink, a wave and he was gone before she’s managed to demand more info.

She almost expected a tumbleweed to roll across the room in his wake.

 

* * *

 

Jack was quiet during the Monday breakfast.

Sombra wasn’t really sure what to do with that. It could be the cold taking over, but she doubted it, the sniffles seemed to have left him. It could be just the season, the lack of sunlight (she still wasn’t sure that man didn’t run on Sun’s radiation or something), the crappy weather, the…

It was the cowboy, wasn’t it. It had to be. The cowboy did something to make her papi unhappy and, fucking hell, she will have words with him on Wednesday! It was absolutely unacceptable!

She quietly seethed over the frying pan, viciously building up a stack of crepes, when she heard a noise from the couch. It was Reaper, purring up a storm from the cradle of Jack’s arm, acting up his cuteness as he nuzzled the man’s stubbly cheek. The morning light was falling in through the balcony door, illuminating the pair in a dreamy haze.

Sombra froze, hand on the phone about to snap a photo, when her neighbour looked up. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!”

The crepe was burning behind her back at this point - how long has she spent staring? - so she took care of that in the first place, nervously flipping it on its back.

“Listen…” Jack sounded tired, even though he didn’t look it. “About yesterday.”

“Yes, old man?”

Heart beating like a drum, she awaited the scolding that was inevitable at this point. Against popular opinion, she knew where the borders of what’s socially acceptable were. She often pushed against them and crossed over some without care, sure, but not for one moment was she unaware that the smack on the nose was only a step away. Seemed that she’d finally pushed her way into the nose-slap land.

But, as usual, Jack skirted her expectations and came up with something completely out of the left field.

“Jesse’s a good kid.”

Eh?

“If you two want to hang out, I won’t get in the way of that.”

She had to lean on the counter, aware that she’s staring at the man with her mouth open, because how the hell did he…

The smile he gave her was soft around the edges, so unlike Jack’s usual smirk. “I just… whatever you two talk about, I don’t want to know, okay?” He was the first one to break the tension and look away. “I know you’re going to dig, because that’s what you do - just keep it to yourself. And tell him the same. I _don’t need_ to know.”

Then Jack went back to petting Reaper and Sombra was left with her crepes, her budding guilt and the unease growing slowly from the bottom of her stomach.

But there was also a seed of gratitude. For all his grumping and grumbling, and sarcasm, and exasperation, Jack seemed to know - to _know_ her already. To know how she worked and accept that as a matter of course. And that… that rarely ever happened to her. Not in a long while…

Reaper yowled like a banshee and Jack almost elbowed her in the face when she slammed into the couch at his side, eyes almost a wide as her smile as she smacked a big wet one on his cheek.  

“I promise not to sleep with the handsome brother until at least third date!” She proclaimed. “And I won’t tell him that your secret weakness is cats!”

“What…?” Jack choked, unable to pick between scoffing and laughing.

“And now go get shaved, papi,” Sombra patted his cheek consolingly, “you can sand wood with that. Breakfast will be ready in five!”

“Cats,” Jack grumbled on the way to the bathroom. “I’ve never made a secret of that, if you have to know.”

Breakfast was done in five.

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

She met McCree in a pub two streets away from home on a Friday evening. It was a nice, inconspicuous place with a lot of wood, comfy booths and enough privacy, if you knew where to perch yourself. Sombra used to work the bar there during the first year of her course, so she knew all the spots out of sight and most of the staff.

Jesse showed up at five past six, walking into the place as if he owned it, casual in a blue checkered shirt, the hat present on his head. The one thing that gave Sombra trouble was a burgundy blanket wrapped around his shoulders. A nice blanket, sure, but still.

“Hey, darlin’, how’ve ya been?”

She climbed to her toes to leave a peck on the stubbly cheek. “Same old, cowboy. Where is my present?”

“Ha! Knew there’s a reason I liked you from the get go!”

“Well yeah, my great looks and amazing personality. Now, present?”

“Alright, alright, missy, hold yer horses. He’s just coming in.”

The newcomer Jesse pointed her to was a short-ish asian dude swimming in an oversized dark green hoodie. There was a dragon printed on the front, a beautiful suibokuga piece of art - it was bright green.

Maybe she was getting ahead of herself, but Sombra was kinda noticing a motive here.

Once the guest stopped in front of her, the hood went down and, yep, there was the head of spiked neon green hair - but the hard light brace framing the guy’s lower jaw and what could be seen of his neck was what really caught her attention.  

“Yo,” the guy waved at her with an easy smile on his face, his English heavily accented. “You’re the new sister?”

“Yo,” she waved back, “you’re the present Jesse promised me?”

“What can I say, I’m a gift.”

So the wit ran in the family, good. Good looks also did, because up close the guy was nice looking, especially when he smiled; it pushed his cheeks up and his eyes crinkled at the corners. Next to the giant of a cowboy, he looked downright adorable in his big hoodie and skinny jeans. One more reason to like him - short people were nothing, if not pack-oriented animals.

“Sombra, this is Genji Shimada, the Gift.” Jesse gracefully stepped in with introductions, at the same time herding both of them into the corner booth. “Genji, this is Jack’s newest acquisition, mysterious sister Sombra.”

They shook on it and, okay, the hand squeezing hers was warm and made of carbon fiber. Interesting.

When they finally perched in the far end of the room, Sombra grimaced when her naked thighs stuck to the pleather seat. November wasn’t really the best time for shorts, but these were her best pants and she did want to make a good impression. Sniggering at her misfortune, Genji shrugged off his sweatshirt and folded it neatly on the back of his chair. It left him in a, surprisingly, black t-shirt with an unsurprisingly artistic kanji print that, while attractive, had Sombra shiver. The pub wasn’t that hot, her old cashmere cable knit did only so much to take the edge off.

“Sorry,” Genji said seeing her reaction. “I’m always running warmer because of the cybernetics.”

“Gen here is like a mobile space heater,” Jesse quipped from behind the menu he was already burying his face in. “S’why I hang out with him. Keeps me warm and cosy."

“Stop spilling my secrets, cowboy.”

While they bickered, Sombra had a good look at her second adopted brother sans the bulk of the hoodie, and had to admit that what he said made sense - taking into account the extent of his prosthetics. From the jaw and neck brace, through the fully artificial left arm and what she could see bulking out the left side of his shirt. She suspected there was more - most probably internal ones. Ribs and spine scaffolding seemed like a safe bet for an enhancement this severe. He moved easily and naturally, though, meaning the cybernetics weren’t a new thing.

Between ordering drinks and snacks, her attention shifted thought, to Genji’s right arm - it was fully, boringly fleshy, but it made up for it with a sweet tattoo. A green dragon was winding its way up from the wrist, accompanied by wind gusts and stylised kanji. A true masterpiece.

“This is really good, hombre.” She nodded at the ink, because good job needed to be acknowledged.

“I’m on the apprenticeship myself,” Genji admitted proudly, pulling the sleeve of the t-shirt up to show off the way the dragon’s maw embraced his shoulder. “Soon I will be inking people full-time myself.”

Now, wasn’t that opportune.

“Mind if I book an appointment ahead of everyone else? I’d like to do some retouching on my hands.” She didn’t mind the way Genji looked her over in return, eyes sharp, but expression confused, because her hands were smooth and clean. “You’ll need better light to see them, though.”

And just like that his face brightened in excitement. “No way! The UV? So old-school!”

“I know, I know.”

She was young and stupid, and glow in the dark tattoos sounded like the coolest things ever - right until she grew up and realised that getting gang tags all over her body wasn’t the brightest idea. At least she’d stopped at skeleton hands and didn’t go full-body like the rest of Los Muertos - lack of funds for once in her life being good for something. Otherwise, she’d have to avoid night clubs for the rest of her life.

“So, kids,” Jesse gently drew their attention back to the menu. “I’m the designated driver, I’ll have the juice.”

That got him another kiss on the cheek.

 

* * *

 

 

After the second pint of lager Genji started picking up coasters and throwing them at the wall like ninja stars. He wasn’t half-bad at it, too, so Sombra proposed they play darts.

She’d lost miserably, but blamed it on the fact that Genji was throwing with his left hand.  

 

* * *

 

 

“So yeah, my second brother is a cyborg ninja.”

This time she had a photo to prove it.

_“Jesus Christ, Sombra, I can’t believe you!”_

“I can barely believe it myself, chica.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey let’s go to the farm!” The ninja-brother proposed enthusiastically out of nowhere around the fourth beer. “She’s been to the farm already, hasn’t she?”

That was starting to be annoying and even a wholesome portion of White Russian couldn’t make it less so. “No, she hasn’t!”

All the time she was hearing about the damn farm and her curiosity wasn’t as much tickled as kicked in the ass and ordered to pay attention!

“What?” Genji pouted at her like a startled puppy. “Jack hasn’t taken you yet?”

Jesse rubbed the stubble on his cheeks in thought. “Well, he may be trying to cut down on the random adoption shtick.”

“Jack? Cut down?” The sole idea seemed to confuse the ninja-brother. “They don’t exactly sell plaster patches for that. You think he’s going cold turkey?”

“Nah, he’s already made her a cupboard.”

“There’s the good old Jack for you! Give him a couple more months and he’ll be re-tiling your bathroom.”

“He did pick up a spider for me.” That was something that bore repeating.

Genji started. “Shiiiiiiiiit.” And shivered. “Yeah, he does that.”

So Jack _was_ known for being fearless and selflessly kind, good. That pleased her for some reason.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, when are we going?”

It was sometimes around the third portion of fries that she’s managed to steal of off Jesse’s plate that the idea appeared. It was roughly about eight, the night was still young and they had a sober driver. No better time than now!  

“Say, whenever you have a day off, sugar,” McCree smiled at her, “just ping me so I can warn Ma’ Morrison that she’ll have guests.”

“Aw, can’t we just pop in, have a look around and come back?” It sounded like a good, solid adventure to have. Ill advised, but good! What was spookier than corn fields after dark in the middle of November?

“Yeah, no,” Genji backed Jesse with a sage nod. “You don't just ‘pop in’ on the farm. Mrs Morrison needs to be warned two days ahead about any possible guests, so she has time to prepare the food.”

Holy shit, there will be food?

She probably spoke out loud, because the guys cracked up in tandem.

Jesse leaned in, lowering his voice as he revealed a secret. “You have to understand something, darlin’. Jack Morrison is one fourth Irish, one fourth Italian, one fourth Dutch and one fourth Polish. There’s _always_ food.”

“ _Always_.” Genji moaned miserably. “You can’t escape the food.”

Joke was on them, because Sombra lived on minimum wage and she wouldn't even _dream_ about running from food pointed her way.  

“Not to mention, another granddaughter? Bāchan will go ballistic in the kitchen.”

 _Wait_.

“Another?” Sombra straightened in the seat, beating the alcohol that demanded she slumps back down. “There’s a sister, too?”

“There sure is, sugar.”

 

* * *

 

 

“My sister is _super_ stacked. She’s in the army now.”

_“...I have no words.”_

“There’s also apparently an Egyptian aunt and some Russian cousin that wrestles bears in the tundra - I don't remember that well, I was kinda drunk when we got to her.”

_“Sweet! Seems that the Morrisons span the globe! Think we can apply to join?”_

“I don’t know, man, I think Jack is already on the verge of an aneurysm with Jesse living on the farm.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You’re living on the farm? Like, full-time?”

“Yeah,” the cowboy looked embarrassed for all of one second. “I’m between jobs now and Ma’ offered lodging in exchange for help with things. With his broken back, ol’ Jack can’t take care of everything when he visits and I know the place like the back of my hand.”

“Oh, what do you do when you're not between the jobs?”

“This and that, whatever comes my way. Was on two tours, before I left the army and trying to find my feet back is a bit of a hassle. A bit hard to get something lasting with a rap sheet as long as mine, so…”

“ _Le_ _gasp_!” Sombra did her best French impression, which wasn’t all _that_ good, but still good enough to make a point. “My new hermano is a criminal?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He didn't sound sorry. He sounded sheepish, as if having a rap sheet was something a bit inconvenient, like forgetting to buy milk. “Spent my childhood running with the gangs in Arizona, so… pretty much all you can put on the sheet, is there”

Genji raised an arm with all of the lifeless charm of an exhausted student. “I was a stupid kid from the money.”

Oh, so it was the “coming clean upfront so it’s less awkward alter on” time. Whew, so refreshing.

This patchwork pack was more and more to her liking.

“So crime does run in the family,” she nodded sagely, leaning back in the vinyl seat like an old timey mafioso, wishing she had Reaper there to stroke ominously. She didn’t explain any more than that - they didn't need to know yet.   

“Eyy, same rep!” Genji cheered weakly, raising his hand again for a fist bump.

Twenty seconds later Sombra had that hand on the table in front of her, because they already knew the worst and Sombra thought that she can allow herself to cross that particular boundary. Genji apparently thought so too, because he was sitting mostly still and amused as she investigated his top of the line prosthetic.

“A car crash,” he offered, before Sombra dared to ask. “When I was fourteen. Had to reconstruct pretty much my whole left side.” He didn’t sound unhappy or morose, as if he wasn’t especially bothered that a half of his body was replaced with plastic, carbon and optical fibre. It might have something to do with the amount of alcohol he’s had thinning his blood, but she didn't think so. “So, what’s your story?”

She was two beers and three hardshakes in, and damn, Genji’s eyes were so honest and pretty, and she was so _soft_ for pretty brown eyes. It took little less than half an hour before they were well-versed in each other’s criminal pasts, enthusing about tattoos, tech and Japanese stylistic. Thanks to Hana, Sombra was somewhat versed in the Asian pop scene, which helped her not to make a fool out of herself when Genji mentioned a few of his favourite bands - once more proving that choosing right acquaintances paid off big time.

Meanwhile, McCree was looking at both of them with stupidly tender expression, sighing forlornly over his cream soda. “How the hell did we ever end up with a straight ruler like Jack Fucking Morrison?”

Genji shrugged. “Me? Natural charm. You? Gabe,” was his answer. “He could never leave well enough alone, you know that.”

“Right you are, pardner. No idea what strings he’d pulled, but before I even knew what’s happenin’ I was already in Basic doing pushups.”

Gabe, eh?

“So, who’s the Gabe?” Sombra sneaked a question subtly, showing only as much curiosity as was absolutely necessary.

Jesse opened his mouth to answer - and she just knew that the answer will be something bland, meaning to mislead her, because the cowboy was a super nice guy like that. Thankfully, the ninja brother had in him five pints of lager and a heap of unrestrained enthusiasm. “He’s the second parental unit,” he crowed, pulling out a smartphone and flicking up a photo he showed right into Sombra’s face. “Here.”

The photo was a cute one and Sombra planned to acquire it promptly. The man on it was tall and built, standing next to McCree who was a couple years younger. He looked to be roughly Jack’s size, built like a brick shithouse, had a head of short black curls with a stylish undershave and well-kept facial hair. He was also unmistakably brown.

Sombra whistled under her breath. At least Jack had good taste in men. These thighs were enough to strangle a horse.

Play her cards well and her new papi could end up with _a papi_ of his own.

But before things could even get close to that point, a pressing question had to be asked.

“Okay, so what did the guy do to make my old man miserable?”

Jesse’s eyebrows narrowed at that. “How do you know it was Gabe’s fault?”

“Please, esse, apart from his singing voice everything about Jack is golden.”

And the singing voice was only really bothering her at six in the morning, when she was trying to find her toothbrush by touch and Jack decided it was a good idea to rehearse under the shower. At this point Sombra was sure that she could win any competition based on the knowledge of obscure white country from the 60’s up.

“Hell, you got it bad.”

“Then again, which of us didn’t at the beginning?” Genji asked lightly.

There was a story there - of course there was! One of her half-brothers was a goddamn Japanese cyborg ninja from a good family and the other was a delinquent from rural Arizona! Ending up as a some sort of a family unit with two American soldiers, an Egyptian sniper and an assortment of characters of more or less cartoonish quality… that didn't just happen without a _story_ behind it. Hell, her own story was probably the most boring of them all!

The need to know was strangling her!

But not yet. She needed to learn restraint. She hasn’t even been to the damn farm, there was no need to overload on the data just yet.

 _Baby steps, Sombra,_ she told herself, _baby steps_. She will get to the bottom of it all when the time is right.

“So, anyone wants to play pool?”

“Sure. As long as Genji uses the right.”

“Well, that’s not fair. What if I’m left-handed?”

“Though cookies, hombre.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later Sombra woke up to the sound of notifications popping up on her mobile one after another. Trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes, she pulled the phone closer only to see an unknown number and building up thread.

 _“Hi there!”_ Read the first message.

 _“So you’re the new sister???”_ Read the second.

The rest was composed of random punctuation marks and emoticons expressing surprise, disbelief and joy - in that order.

 _“Finally!”_ The stranger tagged the exclamation with a yellow teary face. _“Never thought thought we'd have another girl!”_ A pair of hands joined in prayer. _“I’ve been heard!”_

Thoroughly confused at five thirty on Monday morning, Sombra’s mental capacity was thankfully robust enough to type back a _“Who U??”_

A smiley face appeared first.

_“Fareeha.”_

_“Amari.”_

_“Welcome to the clan, kid!”_

And a heart.

Huh.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jack, what are you doing to the couch?”

“Looking for my damn keys.”

“Ask Reaper.”

“What?”

The look the man sent her over his shoulder was in equal parts baffled and frustrated. Sombra rolled her eyes.

“You’ve invited him into your home, padre, you have to deal with his vices.”

“English.”

“First of all, rude. Second, he likes jingling things.”

Not that much of a vice, if you asked her, just a mild form of kleptomania. Reaper, as far as Sombra was concerned, had no real flaws, Jack was simply too trusting to be assuming that all of his stuff was safe where he left it. If she was even half of an optimist like that she’d never find any of her earrings.  

“Okay, smartass, where is his stash then?”

“Who knows?”

Another unimpressed scowl, ay ay, the cat was getting her in some deep shit today. “A’right, hold yer horses, I’ll look in the usual place.”

It was the silence more than anything that had her turn away from the door to look back at Jack, who stared at her really strangely. “What? Something on my face?” God not again, not the pancake syrup in her hair!

“Nothing,” said Jack, but it was much softer than the previous grumbling. “You spend too much time with the damn ingrate.”   

Did she? Oh, was she picking up on the cowboy’s vocabulary now? First Oxton, then this! Fuck her life, really.

Jack saw her scowling and he had to take it the wrong way, because the next thing he said was, “I don’t mind. It would actually do you good to hang out with some real people your age.”

That point of contest between them recently was downright ridiculous. “Hana and Lucio _are_ real!”

“Pictures or it didn't happen!”

She left the flat in a huff, marching to her door, intent on getting the keys back so they could get the day on the roll. That’s what she was getting for being an amazing and caring person, ridicule and disbelief from all corners! No one believed her when she tried to explain her life anymore!

...okay, it did sound somewhat weird and unbelievable recently, but goddamn, she wasn’t the only person on this green Earth to have adopted a family on her own, yes? How was she supposed to know that Jack came with a mixed-heritage tribe attached to his coat-tails? Not like he gave her a warning when she was trembling and crying against his manly chest once the spider menace has been dispatched!

Diving between the stack of boxes in her miniscule wardrobe was always the sort of calculated risk that skydivers indulged in, but since it was Reaper’s favourite treasury, there was a chance of getting away with Jack’s keys without having to resort to risking her arm and a bad case of tetanus under the ancient bathtub. After a bit of poking around (a dead sparrow not included this time, thank God) Sombra pulled herself out of the wardrobe with a prize in hand.

Jack was waiting on her in the corridor, dressed to go, with her backpack slung over his shoulder. They’ve exchanged the goods and locked their respective flats.

The commute was peaceful, worst of the morning traffic already over by the time they got on the road, Jack’s favourite radio station supplying them with mellow tunes.

“Why don’t you ever take me to the farm, papi?”  

Tired sigh seemed to be the only answer she was going to get for a whole five minutes and, okay, she was fine with that. Not everyone liked to have their laundry hung to dry like that - she already knew more about Captain Morrison than he’d like her to, most probably. Heck, had she wanted, she could copy his keys or hack his PC, or even take over his credit card. That was already pretty close.

“Because, if I take you there once I will never get rid of you.”

Ouch.

“Ouch, that’s hurtful.”

“That’s a precedent.” He was staring at the road, all serious like, but the corner of his lips was trying to ride up.

“You trying to stay on the wagon?”

“Too late for that, I already made you a cupboard.”

So Jackie-boy was self-aware. She didn't know how to feel about that.

“Well, there’s two people to make that decision, hombre.” Let it be known she wasn’t easy like that! “What if I decide to drop your flat ass all of a sudden? I may be just using you for free transportation, for all you know.”

She was lying, Jack’s ass wasn’t flat at all. It wasn’t a perfect half-sphere, sure, but it had a nice definition, probably because of all the running he did. A good handful, an ass with a future and no false pretences. She hoped that The Gabe appreciated it, his hands looked just big enough to handle it comfortably if needed...

God, she needed to get laid.

“Who knows,” Jack mused, “I may be putting up with you only for the crepes.”  

“Papi, people used to put up with me for less.” He frowned at her, his concern making her smile. “Not like I bust out my one refined kitchen skill for just anyone, you know?”

He grumbled for a bit, clearly embarrassed by the admission. Her neighbour, Sombra concluded, for all his sass, wasn’t all that used to genuine human emotion.

“Well, not like I bust out my carpently genius for just anyone either.”

“I’ve heard differently.”

“...you can tell Jesse McCree to mind his own damn business.”

“A princess bed, padre, that’s what it takes to impress me.”

“Oh lovely, another Fareeha.”

“I'm learning from the best.”

 

* * *

 

 

Her first visit to the farm was a big enterprise that was much more complicated than it had any right to be.

It took more or less two weeks to orchestrate, with Genji playing up the role of the man of mystery to the T, and Jesse trying to get the fabled Ma Morrison on board with keeping it all from Jack. It was rather exhilarating, to be honest, even if it left Sombra with a shade of guilt nagging at her in the dark hours of the night, even as the excitement grew.

And she didn’t even know why she’s so excited, really. She was a city-schmoe, there was never a moment in her life when nature called to her, the rustic aesthetic was downright revolting. But somehow, this time, she was shaking in her boots at the thought of seeing a scrap of land and an old-ass house that stood on it. And apples trees. And geese. And even the goddamn bees!

( _“There’s no bees now,” Genji told her with a sad grimace, “It’s winter so they’ve all went to sleep.”_ )

Okay, so no bees, but there were chickens!

( _“I saw b_ _ā_ _chan kill a chicken once. It was awful.”_

_“Where do you think Sunday’s roast comes from, Gen?” Jesse quipped from the driver’s seat._

_“The oven! She took it behind the shed, hugged it, and then the head was off!”_

_Sombra shivered, “That’s cold, man.”_

_“Yeah, farmers don't fuck around in these parts.”_ )

And the tractor! Jesse said there was a tractor and she wanted to see it!

( _“Oh, I have something much better than an ol’ tractor for ya, sugar,” the cowboy promised with a glint in his eye._

_Which, obviously got her interested._

_“You’ll see when we get there.”_ )

So it wasn’t like she was some sort of a weirdo that yearned to feel the dirt under her feet or some other hippie bullshit. Except, this land?

This land she wanted to see.

Even if Jack never learned about it, even if it was only this once.

She needed to test the precedent.

 

* * *

 

 

The farm was… everything she’d ever imagined it to be knowing Jack as she did.

A cut of flat land about a half a mile away form the paved road and over an hour’s drive from Bloomington proper; surrounded by cornfields on three sides (Jack lied, goddamnit!) and spilling into an orchard on the fourth. The apple trees looked ancient and terrifying as they reached with their twisted, leafless branches towards the sky, but the cheerfully yellow beehives standing between them were downright cute. A good parcel behind the house was fenced off and full of birds - chickens and geese, Sombra assumed, though she wasn’t daring enough to come closer to make sure. What did she know about birds, anyway? The most she’d ever had to do with were the unfortunate ones that Reaper decided to leave on the balcony (and on one memorable occasion, in the back of the wardrobe).

The house itself was decent, but on the smallish side. A two storey wooden cube with a porch that sagged a bit, painted white, with blue wooden shutters framing all the windows. It was charming in an old-timey way that seemed to fit her neighbour perfectly.

There was a dog, as promised.

Well, two dogs, actually, which argued with her intel.

“Athena belongs to Ma, keeps an eye on the place,” Jesse explained, ruffling the ears of a white, lanky mutt that did her best to ignore his very presence. “Bastion came with me. He’s an old boy, it’s his retirement.”

Bastion was a monstrously big, tan terrier, currently busy cosying up to Genji.

Sombra appreciated both animals, but stayed at a decent distance - Reaper would never forgive her is she came back home smelling of strange dogs.  She was not a fan of drool, either, unlike her new brothers who didn’t seem to mind it. Ugh.

Thankfully, they didn't have the chance to sick the dogs on her, because a squeak of the porch door signaled the arrival of the mythical Ma.

And, fuck her sideways and upside down, the Ma turned out to be worth the whole buildup.

Wanda Morrison was not tiny, as Sombra imagined her to be, no, a woman that bore the hunk of a man currently occupying flat number 76 couldn't really be, logically. She was almost as tall as McCree and Sombra had a feeling that the few inches she lacked were robbed by the age after a long and violent struggle. In her mid sixties, her hair was more grey than blond now, but her eyes were just as blue as her son’s and when she hugged Sombra to her plump chest, the girl realised that it wasn’t the army that put the meat on her padre’s bones - it was pure, wholesome win of a genetic lottery.

So was, apparently, his affinity for flannel.

“Come in, come in, y’all.” She pulled them towards the house and before Sombra knew it, there was a table covered in checkered cloth in front of her and a wooden chair under her ass. “Now, the potatoes are just about finished. Jesse, darling, get some milk for everyone, would you? Is roasted pork alright with you, sugar? Usually it’s chicken, but I thought that today’s a special occasion, so why not, eh?”

A faint memory tried to claw its way up from her stomach, it felt like, pushing up, strangling the voice in her throat. Something about a small house with white walls, a checkered tablecloth and a heavenly scent wafting in through the open kitchen doors. About a woman with dark complexion and gentle hands, and…

And she pushed it back down mercilessly, swallowing down any kind of tearful nonsense that she’d had no time for since she was ten. It would destroy her reputation if she’d let it come bubbling up now of all times.

“Yes, ma’am, it’s fine.”

So, fuck, now she had two hot adopted half-brothers, one hot adopted half-sister and an old Irish-Polish granny living on a dream farm with her geese, jams and real fucking bees!

Jack was a gift that simply kept on giving.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
